Sara's Secrets
by NewYorkNewYorkGirl
Summary: Sara's life starts to unravel and she finds herself leaning on Nick for support. Snickers! Please Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing. Writing is just a creative outlet, and I get no payment in return. Suing me is pointless, as all you'll get it the lint in my pocket. But hey, if it gets me out to LA, and possible on the set of CSI, I'm all for it! LOL! Just kidding, people. Yeesh!

Please R&R.

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Sara fanned herself against the heat as she entered the diner, shocked at how crowded it was at nearly four pm. She bobbed and weaved her way through the patrons to the long, narrow counter space and found herself a stool to perch on.

"I'll be right with you, Ma'am," a uniformed waitress acknowledged as she busily sped past Sara, five plates of food carefully balanced in her hands and along her arms.

"Sure, no problem," Sara mumbled, playing absently with the chain around her neck.

"Well aren't you a pretty thing," a man about her age spoke, startling her. She turned to look at him and froze.

She fought against the bile rising in her throat. The man was creepy. The way he smelled -- it was too framiliar. As were his eyes. Cold, and dead. She said nothing, just turned her attention back to the waitresses busily working.

"Say," he continued, "there are no booths left, and since I think you and I would get along well, how 'bout you let me sit on that stool and you can sit on my lap." She turned around and gave him one of her infamous stares. Usually, at this point, men backed off. "I don't mind." She rolled her eyes, turning back around.

"Well, I do," she said. He placed his hand on her lower back and she whipped around to face him. "Take your hand off me," she spat through gritted teeth.

"Fiesty," he smirked. "I like."

"Sara," he drawled protectively, approaching his co-worker. He saw her glance his way, and appreciation swept across her face. He pushed past the man invading her space and offered his hand out to her, which she took without hesitation. She stood up and he slipped an arm around her waist, and she mirrored his actions. "I didn't see you come in. Our table is over here," he nodded his head in the direction of the table before leading her away from the counter.

"Thanks for the save," she said over the murmur of conversation that was reverberating thoughout Franks Restaurant.

"Could never resist a beautiful woman in need of assistance," he smiled as they reached the booth. It was then that he realised his arm was still around her waist. Regretfully, he released his grip and slid in, motioning for her to join them.

"I don't want to intrude," she shook her head.

"You're not," a woman in her early fourties smiled. "Please, join us."

"Are you sure?" she asked cautiously.

"Sara, sit," Nick smiled, shaking his head.

The man and woman across from him exchanged looks, the realization of why Nick left the booth so abruptly now clear to them. The look did not go unnoticed by Nick.

"Please join us," the man smiled, using the same words the woman had just used seconds before. He reached out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Sara. I'm Tom, Nick's older, more handsome brother."

"I'm his wife," the woman said dryly as she poked her husband in the ribs, smiling at Sara and rolling her eyes. "My name is Emily. Nice to meet you."

Sara laughed, and shook her head as she slid in next to Nick and extended her hand to the man. "Nice to meet you both."

"And this," Nick smiled widely, "is Jacob." He reached across the table and tickled the infants stomach, causing him to gurgle happily.

Sara smiled at the innocent young life. "Aren't you a cutie," she cooed.

"Gonna be a heart breaker," Emily smiled as she bounced her son in her lap. "Just like these two," she nodded at her husband and brother in law.

"How old is he?" Sara asked Emily quietly, her eyes sparkling.

Nick noticed and a smile tugged at his lips.

"Two and a half months," she answered. "Happiest baby, if I do say so myself. Cutest too. But I may be a little biased."

"Well, I'm not and I agree," Sara answered easily.

"Here we are," the waitress smiled, placing three plates of food on the table. She looked at the new face. "What can I get you, Sara?"

"Veggie burger, garden salad and a bottled water, please Marla. Can you make it to go?"

"Sure thing," she smiled. "Anything else for you while you wait?" The small group shook their heads no, smiling in appreciation. "Alright, I'll bring your order as quickly as possible."

"Thanks."

"You didn't have to do that," Nick said, one eyebrow raised.

"Do what?"

"Get you're order to go."

"Please stay," Emily smiled.

"I would love too, but I can't."

"Sara," Nick drawled.

"Really, I have an appointment," she stated.

"Is everything OK?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

"Yeah, just a meeting with a financial planner. Nothing earth shattering," she said. "Quite boring, actually."

"Jacob," Emily quietly whined, "mommy wants to eat. Sit still." She glanced around the establishment at all the high chairs that were being used. She glanced up at Sara. "Would you mind holding him? Just until I've finished eating?"

"Oh!" she was surprised. "I don't know. I'm not really good with kids."

"Yes you are," Nick reassured. He really didn't like how she didn't give herself enough credit. Kids, especially those coming out of bad situations, seemed to gravitate towards her.

"Babies are a whole different ball game," she shook her head. "Haven't you ever noticed how whenever a baby is around, everyone else holds it?"

"His head won't fall off," Emily reassured her, smiling slightly. "I promise." She could see that Sara was at a loss for words. "Here," she said, standing up, "just support his head." And with that, faster than Sara could've imagined, she was craddling the small infant in her arms.

Nick chuckled softly at the terrified expression on Sara's face. "See?" he said. "Nothing scary about a little baby. At least, not until it's time to change the diaper."

"You're turns coming little brother," Tom said, taking a bite of his fry.

The baby reached up and grabbed the necklace that Sara was wearing, fascinated by it. She smiled down in to his eyes and slowly relaxed.

Now, Nick couldn't hide his smile. "You're a natural."

She glanced over at Nick and couldn't help but smile herself.

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"Where is Sara?" Warrick questioned, glancing at his watch. It was 5:57pm, and shift was going to start in three minutes. Normally, she was there at least ten minutes early.

"Her meeting must've run late," Nick shrugged, glancing at his own watch.

"Meeting?" Warrick questioned.

Just then, they could hear two women walking down the hall towards them in the break room.

"Isn't he great?" Cath smiled.

"I had my doubts, but you were right," Sara answered. "Now, it's all done and I can just relax." They entered the breakroom where Warrick and Nick were.

"What's this I hear about a meeting?" Warrick asked, an eyebrow up. "You aren't thinking about joining another CSI team, are you?"

"I'm here for the long haul," she said. "Well, that is, unless I shoot my mouth off when Ecklie is around."

Nick laughed. "Wouldn't blame ya if you did."

"No one would," Catherine laughed.

"So . . . not to be repetative, but . . . meeting?"

"Financial planner," she shrugged. "The sale of the property in Tamales Bay was finalised last week, and I had all that cash sitting in my account. Had to do something with it," she answered matter-of-factly. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down beside Nick, across from Catherine, who'd taken up residence in the chair beside Warrick.

"Retiring early, huh?" Nick smirked, poking her in the ribs.

Sara looked at him and glanced at the table, forcing a small smile. "Something like that."

"You know your mom would want you to use it," Warrick said softly.

They all knew how hard the last month had been on Sara.

**FLASHBACK**

The team had finished a long double shift and decided to go to Franks Restaurant. Though tired, both physically and emotionally, they were all happy to have caught the perp. They were smiling and laughing softly when her world, or rather what was left of it, had come tumbling down.

"Sorry," she rolled her eyes. "I must've forgot to turn it off." She looked at the display and noticed the framilar number. It was not a number that she called, or was called from, regularly, but her heart jumped to her throat. "This is Sara."

Everyone at the table glanced at each other, noting how soft her voice had become and that she'd answered 'this is Sara' rather than the normal 'Sidle.'

"What?" she asked, not believing to have heard correctly. The woman repeated herself. "When? . . . . No, no, I'm sure you did . . . . uh, yeah, I'll be on the next flight . . . . thanks." She disconnected the call. "Griss, I, uh -- can't work tonight. Do you think you can get someone from days to cover me?"

"Yeah, of course," he spoke just as softly as her.

"Sara?" Catherine softly called out to her, placing a comforting hand on Sara's that was resting on the table top.

"Hmm?" she snapped back into reality.

"What happened?" Catherine pried softly, even after years of working together and becoming friends, Sara's life prior to Las Vegas was still very much a mystery. The only thing that any of them really knew was that she'd attended Harvard. And grew up in California.

"My, uh, mom . . ." she stopped, almost trying to believe that the phone call she'd received really had happened, "she's dead."

"I'm so sorry, Sar," Nick said gently taking her other hand. He gave it a pat and then a reassuring squeeze. "Is there anything I can do?"

She managed a half smile, more so at the question than anything. She never understood why people asked if they could do anything because really, they couldn't. No one could bring back the person who died. But she knew that he'd meant well. "No. But thanks anyway."

"What happened?" Greg asked softly.

"Died in her sleep."

"Do you want us to call someone for you? Your Dad maybe?" Warrick asked quietly.

"My Dad died when I was 12," she shook her head. "And my brother is dead too. There's no one," she said bitterly. The idea of having to go back, even for formalities such as signing the death certificate, was a little unnerving. "She was living in a nursing home -"

"Why?" Greg asked suddenly, interrupting her. He realized how rude it was to ask such a question since it was no one's business, but it just kind of rolled off his tongue before he even had a chance to think.

She quickly glanced at Grissom, who looked like he was going to yell at Greg, but she stopped him by speaking. "Uh, car accident," she said quickly. "Happened shortly after my Dad died. She's been in a coma." She glanced at Grissom again making sure that he understood that she didn't want anyone to know the truth. He understood and nodded slightly, acknowledging her silent request. While she hated lying, she couldn't not say something. They were her friends and were concerned. They only wanted to help.

"Anyway, I have to fly home this afternoon. Sign the death certificate and those kinds of things. They have a long wait list, so the faster it can be dealt with, the better."

"Take as long as you need, Sara," Grissom spoke.

"I'll be back tomorrow for shift."

"Don't push yourself," Nick said, realizing that his hand was still atop of hers, his thumb now caressing the skin on the back of her hand.

She looked at him, and wished that she could just let down the barrier and let herself cry in his embrace. "My mothers been dead for a long time, Nick. Physically, her body was there. Aging . . . " she shook her head, trying to ride herself of the images of her mother. "Mentally, she's been dead since it happened. I think I always knew that, but the doctors always told my brother and I that there was a chance . . ."

"Come on," Catherine quietly urged, standing up from the table. "I'll take you home, and make the arrangements for your flight while you pack. Take you to the airport."

"Cat," Sara started, but Catherine's look told her not to argue.

"Don't try to talk me out of it," she said firmly.

Sara smiled slightly, and nodded. Her emotions were starting to take over and the last thing she wanted was a loosing fight. She needed to get out of there. She felt Nick tightly pull her to him and pressed a kiss against her temple, telling her to call if she needed anything. Even if it was to just talk. Or cry. She remembered nodding, not trusting her voice, and gently allowing Catherine to pull her out of the booth.

She couldn't really remember much after that as Catherine put an arm around her shoulders and began leading her away. She could faintly hear the garbled sounds of her friends softly saying bye. And once the sun hit her skin, she felt Cat brush away a stray tear that had begun it's descent down her cheek.

**End FLASHBACK**

"Sara," Nick called softly. When she didn't respond, he looked at his friends for help. They all called out to her softly, but she still didn't respond. Nick reached out and gently brushed her hair behind her ear.

Catherine smiled lightly at the affectionate action, while Warrick silently chided Nick for doing that under such tense circumstances. Had it been a light hearted moment, he would've been teasing the two.

Sara suddenly realised that Nick was brushing hair away from her face and looked over at him. "Hmm?" she mumbled.

"What're you thinking about?" he asked quietly.

"How weird it is," she admitted. "That house was where I grew up. Good memories. Bad memories. I guess I always expected it to be there. I thought my mom would magically recover and she'd still have 'home' to go back too." She shook her head, trying to rid herself of such a ridiculous notion.

"It's a big adjustment," Catherine said, reaching forward and taking one of Sara's hands that had been absently playing with her coffee mug.

"Hey," Greg yawned, entering the break room.

"Hey," Sara cleared her throat, grateful for the distraction. She glanced at her watch, and then back at Greg. "You're late. Where ya been?"

"Ecklie called me in early. The lab was backed up and they needed some help," he answered, throwing himself down into the chair.

"Assignments," Grissom stated, walking into the room, not bothering to look up from his clip board. "Catherine, Greg -- you two are with me. We roll out in five minutes. Get your gear ready. We have a double homicide at the Tangiers. Possibly linked to the drug heist that the LVPD busted last month."

Greg nodded, standing up once again. He yawned.

"Get a coffee, we need you awake," he ordered. "Cath and I might have to send you back to the lab with some of the finds if they're still backed up as badly as they were this afternoon." He noticed the look that Greg was shooting at him. "I'm sorry. I know Ecklie had you confined in there when you could've been sleeping, but --"

"I know, I know - it's our job," mumbled.

Sara chuckled.

"Nick, Sara, Warrick - single homicide, out of town. Might be an overnight stay, so the department has booked two rooms at a motel. Victim is male, suspect is currently not co-operating with the police," he handed the sheet to Warrick with further details. "Questions?" he finally looked up, peering over his glasses.

"Let's hit it," Warrick said, standing up and dumping the remainder of his coffee into the sink and rinsing out his mug.

The three CSI's knew that any question they asked would just be responded to with a riddle.

"Good," the senior CSI nodded before turning around and heading out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing. So, please, don't sue me.

Thanks so much for the replies. I absolutely loved the immediate response that I got. I hadn't expected it, so it was a nice treat. I will try to not disappoint:)

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"I can't believe Grissom didn't mention it's in Pioche," Sara shook her head from the backseat.

"It is Gris, after all," Nick said, watching her in the rearview mirror briefly before turning his attention back to the road. "Maybe he figured that since we already have a bit of a relationship with the Sheriff out there, we were the best people for the job."

"Still would've been nice if he'd mentioned it," she grumbled, closing her eyes.

"Hey Sar, can I ask you a personal question?" Warrick asked quietly.

"Doesn't mean I'll answer it," she shrugged. "But go ahead."

Nick glanced curiously over at what Warrick. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of personal question . . .

"Last week, Catherine was checking out Real Estate properties in the San Francisco area on her laptop in the break room. Pretty nice places out there . . . got me wondering . . . What was the property you owned in Tamales Bay like?"

"Ten acres with a view of the Bay and the bridge," she shrugged. "Horse stables and a riding pasture, a pool, gardens. Two houses -- the big one was the Bed and Breakfast. It had seven large bedrooms, and eight bathrooms, fireplaces, a huge kitchen, wrap around porch . . . the second house was smaller, three beds, three and a half baths . . . that was where my family and I lived," she rattled off, not really thinking about it. Then she stopped and cocked an eyebrow, her own curiousity getting the better of her. "Why?"

"Sorry, I didn't think I should ask, but I was . . . uh-"

"Curious?" she offered, knowing full well that he had been very curious in deed. He nodded.

"From those figures that I saw online of similar properties . . ." Warrick said, his eyes wide . . . he let a long, low whistle escape him. "Wow doesn't even begin to describe it."

"I under priced it a little," she admitted. "I wanted a quick sale. But still, it was a lot of money. That's why Cath put me in touch with the financial planner."

"So, I assume that you became the sole owner of the property in light of," Nick said softly, "you're family situation."

She glanced down at her feet. "After my Dad died and my mom's, uh, accident," she spoke carefully, "my brother was the controlling benefactor of the Estate because he had just turned 18. I was only 12 at the time. There wasn't any cash to speak of since it was all tied up in the Bed and Breakfast. He had wanted to sell it, but I begged him not too. I thought our mom would come back to us," she swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. She caught Nick's gaze in the mirror and smiled a little. "He understood, and decided to rent it out instead. I had been placed in foster care since my parents hadn't officially named him as my Guardian. And since he was only 18, everyone naturally assumed that he couldn't, or wouldn't, take care of me. But we had always been close growing up, despite the age difference."

Warrick and Nick glanced at each other, silently surprised that Sara was speaking so openly, but not daring to interrupt her, fearing that she'd clam up, and remain a mystery. It was obvious to them that she needed to let it out.

"Brian used the money that he was getting in rent and got a good lawyer so he could officially be named my guardian," she continued quietly. Nick silently turned down the volume on the radio so they didn't have to strain to hear her words. "I was in foster care for six months . . . after we won, things started to go downhill. The memories of our family living on the property were just too much for either of us to deal with, so we rented an apartment in San Francisco, and basically tried to start a new life for ourselves. But, Brian had changed. I think everything had just started to weigh him down. He fell in with the wrong crowd and before I knew it, he was a full blown drug user. He and his friends would shoot up and snort their coke in the living room. I begged him to stop, told him I'd help him. But he was too far gone," she said quietly, willing away the tears before they could fall. "One day, I came home from school and he was convulsing on the floor. He over dosed infront of me and I couldn't stop it." She sniffed, and chuckled slightly when she felt Nick's hand reach into the back and squeezed her knee. "I'm sorry," she apologised.

"Don't be," Nick said softly. He squeezed her knee again and then let it go, bringing his hand back up to the wheel.

"What happened after he died?" Warrick asked cautiously.

Sara smiled inspite of herself. She had been holding it in for so long. She missed her brother. Her life with him after their parents were gone wasn't a lie, and although it was hard for her to talk about, she realised that she was feeling better. And she wasn't surprised that out of everyone, it had been Nick and Warrick that she opened up too. Nick had a way of setting her at ease and she'd contemplated telling him about her past on more than one occassion, but she'd always decided that it 'wasn't the right time.' More or less, she'd chicken out. And Warrick . . . well, he'd almost become like a big brother to her. He reminded her a lot of Brian before he started using.

"I was placed back in Foster Care," she sighed. "I was almost 15 by then. My foster families were less than ideal, and I had already lived alone. Technically my brother had been there, but in a way, I had been my own parent. Didn't have any rules . . . Sara Sidle having a problem with authority," she announced with a slight laugh. "Who would've guessed?"

Nick and Warrick chuckled slightly.

"Anyway, since I hadn't been of legal age yet to take over owning the property, the State took control of it. Brian and I had been paying the bills with the rent that we were getting from the B&B, then splitting the rest fifty fifty. That's how he managed to buy all his drugs . . . I had been careful and saved my money, though. So, I hired the lawyer that my brother had used, decided that I didn't want to be a 'child of the State.' I was emancipated. The lawyer made sure that the property title was put back in my name and I became the sole owner. I found a cheap apartment, saved all the money that I could, and kept renting out the B&B. There are three reasons why I wanted to be a criminalist. One of the reasons was because I wanted to help put away the guys who deal drugs and wreck families over a senseless addiction. I didn't want my brothers death to be in vain. It gave me the kick in the ass I needed to decide what I wanted from my life. Professionally speaking, anyway."

"And personally?" Warrick questioned in a teasing tone.

"I'll let you know when I figure that one out," she smirked. "Could be a while yet, though."

"So you said there were three reasons you wanted to be a criminalist," Nick stated, wondering just how much of herself she'd be willing to expose. "What're the other two reasons?" He glanced back at her in the mirror and noticed that her eyes clouded over, and she seemed to be shutting down. "It's OK," he spoke, not wanting to push her.

"Sorry," she shook her head. "I think one Sara Sidle drama-" she flinched, realising the word she'd just used, hoping it wouldn't be noticed by either of her friends, "is enough for today." She sighed in relief when she noted both Nick and Warrick's heads nodding in acknowledgement.

Nicked nodded mutely, noting her choice of words. 'Drama.' He could feel his heart breaking. She had opened up about the property and her life with her brother so easily, well easily after seven or so years, so he could only wonder what other heart breaking losses she was concealing, or demons she was battling. He didn't have much more time to wonder about Sara's past as they entered the township of Pioche.

"Address?" Nick asked Warrick who still held the assignment paper that Grissom had handed them earlier.

Sara heard Warrick tell him, and her stomach dropped. "Isn't that . . . "

"The McBride house," Nick nodded quietly confirming Sara's suspicions. Images of what Cassie told him had happened replayed themselves in his head. He smiled sadly as he pulled into the driveway, thankful that the young girl had been placed with her grandparents, in a loving and stable environment, far away from the terror the small town now reminded her of.

"Man," Warrick shuttered. "This place is cursed."

Nick and Sara said nothing, but silently agreed with his assessment. All of them felt like the house needed to be torn down, taking all of it's nightmares with it.

Silently, they parked, grabbed their gear and walked towards the house.

"What do you have for us?" Warrick asked the Sheriff who smiled warmly at the framiliar faces.

"Nice to see you all again," he nodded. "Just wish it could be under better circumstances. I can't help but wonder what is happening around here," he gazed at the night sky, as if it held the answers.

Nick smiled sadly at the kind man, nodding his head in agreement.

"Oh, God!" a young officer cursed as he made it out the front door, just in time to spew the contents of his stomach into the manicured bushes near the house.

"First DB?" Warrick questioned, looking at the cop who couldn't have been more than 22.

The Sheriff shook his head in response. "No, he transfered here from Reno last month. He couldn't handle the grisly cimes he saw there."

"That bad?" Sara asked.

"I'm not exactly sure what he's seen, but for me? Yeah, it's bad. The smell alone," he cleared his throat.

"What can you tell us?" Sara asked. "Our supervisor mentioned that you have a suspect in custody, but they aren't co-operating."

"The guys wife," he nodded. "New to town, seemed to be a nice, normal family, though. I'm just glad their daughter wasn't here. She's almost three, I think," he shook his head.

"Where is she?" Nick asked.

"My daughter, Anna, works at the diner and over heard them last week," he started. "Her Grandparents were taking her on a road trip to the Grand Canyon. This morning I stopped by the diner for breakfast. It's my Sunday morning ritual when I have to work," he explained, "they were there. My daughter was waiting on them and the little girl couldn't contain her excitment and told Anna that her Grandma and Grandpa were picking her up later in the morning for a road trip. Strange thing though. My Anna, she's real perceptive. Said that she thought the father was irritated by his daughters excitement. Said the mom wasn't much better either."

"We will need to talk to her," Warrick informed the Sheriff, who just nodded in response.

"Did you recover a weapon?" Nick asked.

"In all honesty, we haven't even gone near the body," he shook his head. "Neighbor called us," he pointed to a small ranch home not far from the old McBride residence. "Said he heard a scream coming from the house so he ran over and banged on the door, but no one answered. He was concerned, and called us. When we got here, the wife was sitting on the couch, like nothing happened. But she was covered in blood. She didn't resist when my officers detained her. I looked around and found him in the office. He was pale and lifeless. His eyes are open," he shook his head. The images would surely haunt him. "There was so much blood. I knew instantly he was dead. I didn't walk inside any further because I knew that CSIs would be out to investigate."

"Thanks," Nick finally spoke after a moment of silence. "We'll let you know what we find."

"I'll call the coroner and see what's taking him," Sheriff spoke.

As soon as she neared the house, she could smell the iron in the air. It was a scent that she was used to by now, but this time, it was different.

"Here it is," Nick commented a few feet infront of her.

"The office," Warrick announced, entering the room behind Nick. He surveyed the scene. "Looks pretty brutal."

She gasped a little when she saw the room. The blood spray, the smell, the wounds. "Looks like he was, ah . . ." she fought against the rising bile in her throat, "stabbed."

She quickly looked away. It was just like when she was 12.

"I wonder what drove her to kill him?" Nick asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"Maybe she didn't. Maybe there was someone else in the house," Rick said, thinking up senarios.

"Then why wouldn't she speak to the cops, man?" Nick asked him. "And she was covered in blood."

"In shock?"

"Maybe she was protecting herself," Sara mused quietly as she started to dust for prints. She stopped briefly, glancing up as Nick and Warrick looked for fibers or anything to collect as evidence. "The Sheriff said their daughter is about three, right?"

Nick glanced at her, wondering what she was getting at.

"Yeah," Warrick nodded. "So? He said she wasn't here."

"I just think it's weird," she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. "I didn't see any toys. You'd never know a kid lived here."

"He did say that she went with her Grandparents on a road trip, so assuming that she's safe with them, maybe her mom picked her toys up," he concluded.

Nick furrowed his brow. "You can clean up after you kids, but you can't conceal all traces of them." He glanced around the room. No pictures. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen any family photos hanging on the wall, either."

"New to town," Warrick shrugged, but he started to get the sinking feeling himself. "Maybe they hadn't had the time yet to put up the personal touches."

"I hope that's all it is," Sara sighed, going back to lifting some prints.

"Butcher knife," Warrick announced, picking up the object that he'd just found. His gloved hand held it by the handle for Nick and Sara to see. He looked over at Sara and saw the color drain from her face. "You OK?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Uh, I'm going to go see if I can find a phone number to reach the little girls Grandparents." Quickly, she left the room.

"I hope she's OK," Nick watched her leave. "I've never seen her react like this before."

Warrick noted Nick's concern, and couldn't help but worry himself.


	3. Chapter 3

I disclaim . . . .

Thanks for the reviews.

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Sara looked at the contents of the purse that she had spilled onto the counter. Normal contents. A wallet, a lip stick. Drivers license. The Sheriff had confirmed by looking at the drivers license photo that that was the woman that had been taken into custody. Her name was Maggie Scott, and according to the address on the ID, she was an occupant at the address.

Before the coroner had left, he had mentioned to her that he'd found the mans wallet in the DBs pants. Identified as David Scott. Maggie's husband.

She went back to searching through the drawers and cabinets.

"Any luck?" Nick asked as he entered the kitchen.

Sara glanced up at him. "Not really," she sighed. "I just don't get it. I've looked in every obvious place for a phone book, and nothing." Sara stopped looking, and glanced around her surroundings.

"What?" Nick asked.

"Did you hear that?" she asked him, continuing to scan the room and strained to listen for the noise to happen again.

"Hear what?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "Must just be this old place. Making noises."

"Little jumpy?" Warrick teased, entering the room with a few evidence bags. He gently placed them down on the kitchen table.

Sara glanced at him, but admitted silently to herself that she was. "Probably just being back here. Knowing what happened to the McBrides." She heard the noise again. "There!" she jumped a little in surprise. "Did you hear it?"

Nick and Warrick glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"Must be going crazy," she tried to joke. But even to herself, her voice sounded strained.

"You know, the last time we were here, I was processing Cassie's bedroom," Nick started, "and I thought I heard a little girl. When I checked it out, it was Warrick. There was an old piano upstairs programmed with her laugh."

She smiled slightly. "Yeah, I remember. Cassie does have an infectious laugh. But, the difference is, you were hearing something that was really there. You two can't hear what I'm hearing."

"Sara, are you OK?" Warrick asked her quietly. "If your not feeling up to this, you can go ahead to the motel, and Nick and I can finish up."

"I'm fine, War," she assured them.

"You're positive?" Nick asked, walking over and placing a hand on her arm.

Sara felt her body heat up at his skin contacting with hers. It took her a moment, but she nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "Absolutely." They stood staring at one another for a few moments, not wanting to look away.

The phone rang, causing Nick and Sara to jump apart, realizing where they were. It rang three times before the answering machine picked up. "This is the Scott residence," a womans voice said in a monotone voice. The three CSIs silently believed it to be the voice of the wife. "We can't come to the phone right now, but please leave your name and number, and we'll get back to as soon as we can." _Beep_.

"Maggie, this is your mom calling," the woman started, and Warrick, Nick and Sara all froze. "We just wanted to let you know that your father and I will be by the house around nine tomorrow morning. I hope Morgan isn't too disappointed that we're getting a late start to the Grand Canyon, but -"

Sara lunged for the phone suddenly. "Uh, hi?" She silently cursed herself for not knowing what, exactly to say. For not sounding professional.

"Who is this?" the woman asked sharply.

Sara took a deep breath, suddenly wishing she'd had the composure to let Nick or Warrick answer the phone. "My name is Sara Sidle. I work with the LVPD," she answered calmly.

"The LVPD?" was the shocked response. Sara could hear the woman telling the person in the car, named Harold, who had obviously been driving to pull over. "What's wrong? Has something happened? Please let me speak to my daughter!"

"I'm sorry Ma'am," Sara said. "Maggie isn't here right now."

"Is she OK? Where's Morgan?" she was firing off questions.

"I was hoping you might have the answer to that," Sara said sadly. "Are you Morgan's Grandparents?" She knew from the message the woman had been leaving that they were, but she needed confirmation. She listened as the elderly lady sobbed quietly, and said yes. Sara heard rustling on the other end of the phone.

"My name is Harold," a man said into the phone. "My wife Mary, she's, uh-"

Sara heard the sob, and a woman loudly blowing her nose. "It's alright, I understand."

"We're Maggie's parents. Morgan's grandparents," he continued. "Please, tell me what happened to my baby and grandbaby."

"Maggie is fine, physically," Sara tried to sound positive for the elderly couple. "She's been taken into the Sheriffs office for questioning. We had been told that you had been planning on picking your grand daughter up earlier today for a trip."

"We had car trouble," Harold sounded shook up. "Been a long drive. We live in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. We were almost to the Utah/Nevada boarder when the radiator blew. Put us behind schedule," he answered, almost crying himself.

Sara nodded and looked at Nick and Warrick, silently confirming that little girl was not with her grandparents.

The conversation was quick after that, Sara scribbling down the cell number of Mary and Harold, promising that they would find Morgan. Giving them the abbreviated version of what had happened -- sans the fact that their daughter was the main suspect. That could wait until after they arrived in town.

"They'll be here early tomorrow morning," Sara said, running a hand through her hair.

"So, where could she be?" Warrick asked. "At a friends, maybe?"

"I don't think so," Sara shook her head. "It just - it doesn't feel right. The Sheriff said they were new to town. Obviously both Maggie and David were here. No traces of their daughter. If you were new to town, would you trust someone whose basically a stranger, to be alone with your three year old?"

"Then were would she be?" Nick asked, wondering the same thing. "The officers cleared the premises."

"Nick and I rechecked the first and second floor, as well as the attic," Warrick mused. "Did anyone check the cellar?"

Sara and Nick shook their heads no.

Slowly, the three of them made their way towards the cellar, guns drawn. Warrick reached out and turned the knob, Nick stood in front of Sara. Together, they made their way, silently, down the dark stairwall.

"Damn," Warrick cursed.

"Nothing," Sara fumed, as Nick let out a shaky breath.

The three made a quick sweep of the area before returning upstairs.

_Bang_

"What was that?" Warrick asked.

"Wait, you actually heard that?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Nick nodded. "It was coming from over here," he nodded in the direction that was now behind Sara.

"I don't remember this room," Warrick commented.

"It's an addition," Nick summed up. The three wandered into the room, gazing around the new addition -- a dining room.

_Bang_

"Where is it coming from?" Sara spoke softly. Her gaze fell upon a large china cabinet that covered a large portion of the wall. Pobably sat eight feet long, six feet tall. She shone her flashlight behind the large unit, her head resting against the wall as she tried to peer behind it. "There's an inconsistancy on the floor," she murmured.

That was enough to get Warrick and Nick's attention.

"On three," Nick said as he gently moved Sara out of the way, taking her place at the one end of the unit, while Warrick stood at the other end.

The two both got firm grips on the piece, and all three were shocked when, on the count of three, rather than finding it hard to move, the furniture rolled away from the wall with little strength needed.

"I could've moved that myself," Sara stated. She watched as Nick and Warrick rolled it about four feet from the wall.

_Bang_

Everyones attention focused back on the floor that had been hidden beneath the cabinet. Sara quickly knelt down and traced the inconsistancy, before finding a groove in the floor board. She pulled it up and was shocked to find a latch. She pulled on it and although it was slightly heavy, she lifted it up easily. Warrick and Nick once again drew their guns as Sara moved to the side.

_Bang_

The hole in the floor revealed a few steps that led into a roughly five foot high room with cement walls. It was a crawl space that had obviously been created when the addition was built. It was dark.

"We're with the LVPD!" Warrick's voice boomed as he and Nick started down the steps. They could hear muffled noises, but couldn't determine what or who was making them. "Show yourself!"

The room was dark.

Sara once again grabbed her flashlight from the holster on her hip, shining it into the small dark space. She gasped at what she saw, Nick was dumb struck and sick to his stomach while Warrick was having problems registering just what exactly they were seeing.

Warrick, still being in front of Nick and Sara, used his own flashlight and found the sole light. He pulled on the string and the light bulb illuminated the room in an depressing tone. Cement floors and walls. Childrens toys strewn about in a haphazard play room.

There was a slight movement in the corner of the room that caught all of their attention. They could see a small foot trying desperately to hide itself in a corner behind a large play station.

"Morgan?" Nick called out cautiously, not wanting to scare the young child.

Warrick pressed on, Nick and Sara following him down the remainder of the steps.

They all made their way, crouching as the went, towards the small child. "My name is Warrick. My two friends here -- they're names are Nick and Sara."

"We're here to help you, Sweetie," Nick spoke softly as if he were talking to one of his neices or nephews.

When Warrick got too close, the little girl sniffled and scrambled away from him, trying to get as far away as possible. She clutched onto her teddy bear as if it held her life in it's hands.

Sara saw the fear in her eyes, and for the first time, she found her voice to speak. "You like Winnie The Pooh, Morgan?" she asked softly. For the first time the little girls scared eyes met hers, and her fright lessened a little. She nodded. Sara moved a bit closer, very slowly. "I had Tigger when I was your age. My brother always teased me because when I was a little girl, Tigger went everywhere with me. And Piglet and Roo were never hard to find, either. But I never told him that I knew he secretly loved Lumpy."

"Me 'ave Anga, too," the little girl said softly, as a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Ah, Kanga," Sara smiled, continuing to crawl towards the little girl. She was just a few feet from her now. "Kanga is Roo's mommy. Do you have any of the others?" Now Sara was sitting beside the little girl, her back against the cement wall.

Warrick and Nick sat back and silently watched as she made headway with the little girl.

Morgan shook her head no. "Me want tem, tow," she hiccuped.

"I think I have Tigger, Piglet and Roo somewhere at my house," she said quietly. "And I think I might even have Lumpy, too. Would you like to have them?"

Morgan's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "You would do tat for me?" she asked, her eyes shining up at Sara.

Sara smiled slightly. "Yes, I would. Besides, I think they'd like to see their old friends. I think they miss Winnie and Kanga."

Without warning, the little girl jumped up and hugged Sara tightly. "Tank you," she sniffed.

"You're welcome sweetie," Sara sighed, she closed her eyes, trying to fight back tears that were threatening to fall. When she opened her eyes, she saw Warrick and Nick watching them with interest. "Morgan?"

"Yes?" she asked quietly, not letting go of her grip around Sara's neck.

"Can we go upstairs?"

In a flash, the little girl pulled away from Sara's embrace and looked in her eyes. There was no mistaking the fear again. She shook her head no.

"Why not?" she asked softly.

"Daddy," she said simply.

Nick and Warrick glanced at each other wonder how any father could make his daughter so scared of him.

"You're Daddy isn't upstairs," Sara said quietly.

"Promise?" she asked, holding out her pinky finger.

Sara held up her pinky finger to the girl, winked and said, "Promise."

Morgan hooked her pinky around Sara's, satisfied. Sara knew that to a girl Morgan's age, a Pinky swear promise was as solid as a signed confession was to the court.

"Will you 'tay wit me 'til I find my mommy?"

"I'll stay with you as long as I can," Sara answered, stroking her hair. She knew she couldn't stay with the little girl until her mother was released from custody. That might never happen. But at the very least, she could stay with the girl until she was in a safe place for the night, and hopefully until her Grandparents made it to town. "Come on," she urged softly, nodding towards the stairs.

She looked at the stairs and then glanced at Nick and Warrick who were still watching the exchange silently. Tears cascaded down her cheeks and she shook her head no. She then turned into Sara's chest and closed her eyes tightly.

"Sara," Warrick spoke up, gabbing her attention. He nudged Nick and nodded his head towards the stairs that lead out of the room.

"Thank you," she mouthed to them both.

After a few minutes of relative silence in, Sara gently spoke. "Are you ready to go upstairs yet?"

Morgan glanced around and didn't see Nick or Warrick. She turned back to Sara and nodded.

Sara held Morgan's hand as she uncomfortably made her way to the stairs. Being that the little girl was probably no more than two and a half feet tall, she was able to walk with ease. As they neared the stairs, Morgan tugged on Sara's hand.

"What is it?" she asked quietly. She held her little hands up to Sara, silently requesting that she carry her out. "Hang on," Sara said as she stepped up the two bottom stairs. She glanced around the dining room and was satisfied that both Warrick and Nick weren't there. She glanced back down and held both her hands out for Morgan to take. When she did, Sara hoisted her up on her hip and walked easily up the rest of the stairs.

Together, Morgan still on her hip, her head burried in the crook of Sara's neck, they walked out of the house and into the front yard where Nick and Warrick had met with the Sheriff.

The Sheriff breathed a sigh of relief when he saw for himself that they had infact found the little girl alive. "Officer Spencer is going to take her to the clinic," he said softly.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea," Nick said when the male officer stepped forward to take the little girl from Sara's arms.

The Officer was about to challenge Nick, but Nick stared him down.

Sara tried to suppress the smirk that threatened to take over, but it tugged at her lips. She couldn't help but notice how sexy it was when Nick tried to intervene on her behalf. If it had been any other man, she would've been saying that she could handle it herself, but with Nick, it was different. She couldn't explain it, but it just was.

"Sara's going to go with you," Warrick stated to the Officer, who looked to the Sheriff for confirmation. He just shook his head, indicating that he trusted the CSIs and would do as they said. Warrick then addressed Sara. "Nick and I will probably be a while prossessing the dining room and what we found under it," he finished carefully, not wanting to upset the little girl.

"OK, I'll try and meet you at the station to question the suspect in a while."

"Call if you need anything," Nick said stepping a little closer to Sara. He reached out to touch Sara's arm, but noticed that the little girl tensed at his proximity.

"It's OK, he's a friend," Sara whispered to the little girl who started to relax once again. She burried her head in Sara's neck before she smiled up at Nick pensively. "We'd better go. I'm going to see if I can get a SART exam for her." She didn't even want to think that it was a possibility that she'd been put through that hell. And if the the little girl had a bad reaction to being examined, they'd just have to build a case, whatever it might be, without it. She wouldn't put the child through anymore stress than necessary.

"Ready, Ms. Sidle?" Officer Spencer asked, clearly becoming impatient.

She nodded her head in response. The Officer opened the back door for Sara, and closed it tightly once she was settled inside.

Warrick re-entered the house intent on starting the evidence collection for the newly found room. Nick on the other hand just stood outside, watching as Sara slid the little girl off her lap and onto the center of the backseat. She strapped her in securely, a little nervous since the officer clearly didn't have the appropriate child restraint seat in his patrol car. She then quickly did up her own buckle before wrapping her arm around the little girls shoulder as she snuggled into Sara's side.

"Spencer!" Nick called out before the Officer opened the drivers door. Sara's head turned at the muffled sound of Nick's voice through the car window. The Officer turned and looked at Nick a little upset that he was being delayed once again. "Drive carefully."

She heard Officers Spencer grunt of a reply when he yanked his door open and dropped himself in the car. "He's unbelievable," Spencer muttered.

"Yeah, he is," Sara whispered, the smile completely over taking her features.


	4. Chapter 4

I disclaim . . .

Thanks for the replies.

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"Hey," Warrick greeted as he and Nick entered the break room of the Pioche PD. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Sara sipped her freshly made cup of coffee and cringed at it's flavor. "The staff at the clinic wouldn't let me stay," Sara stated. "I didn't want to leave, but there wasn't anything else I could do. Morgan fell asleep pretty quickly after we left the house. She slept through . . . everything," she tried to get over the bitter taste of the coffee with another sip, but it was futile. She pushed it away. "Definitely isn't Greg's blend."

"That bad?" Nick asked as he picked up Sara's discarded coffee and took a sip for himself, and swallowed. "You don't even have to answer that," he shuddered. He opened the small refrigerator. "You wanna a Coke or a water?"

"Water, please," Sara sighed, taking a seat at the table. Warrick grabbed the paper cup of coffee from Nick's hand and poured it down the drain in the sink.

"What about you, Rick?"

"Coke, thanks."

He grabbed the three of them their beverage of choice, handing Warrick the soda can, then sat down next to Sara. He untwisted the lid of the sealed water bottle and handed it to her then did the same with his own.

"Thanks for opening mine, Nick," Warrick jested as he pulled back the tab on the soda can.

Sara smirked and Nick looked down at the floor. He cleared his throat. "What did the SART exam tell you?"

"She wasn't raped," she looked up and saw the relief in Nick's eyes. Warrick released a breath that he hadn't known he was holding. "But, I did find a couple of bruises on her arms and one on her back. They are almost completely faded, though. But nothing fresh."

"Could just be kids play," Nick hoped, though he didn't believe it himself. Not after seeing a childs play room set up in a windowless, dark and cold crawl space.

"The receptionist gave us Mrs. Scott's clothes," Warrick continued. "They gave her some sweats to change into. Nick and I looked them over and it's definitely spatter."

"So she killed her husband," Sara nodded, not even bothering to think anything else.

"Or she was in the room when someone else did," Nick weighed in. "But there was only one set of foot prints in his blood. It led straight to the couch where the Sheriff said they'd found her. So, it's definitely a strong possibility that she is the perp."

"Good, you're all here," the Sheriff said as he entered the break room. "I just spoke with the Officer down in lock up. Said Maggie hasn't said a word all night. We've got her in the interrogation room, waiting."

The three nodded in thanks and slowly stood up, filing out of the room and into the Interrogation area.

Sara was the first to enter, sitting down in the chair closest to the woman, then Nick beside her and Warrick beside him. She never bothered to look at them. It was like she hadn't even heard them enter.

"My name is Nick Stokes," he took the lead. "This is Sara Sidle and Warrick Brown. We are criminalists from Las Vegas. We're here investigating your husbands death."

Still, she said nothing.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Warrick asked. After about a minute of silence, his patience was wearing increasingly thin. "Look, your husband was found dead in your home tonight, you were wearing clothes with his blood that at the very least puts you in the room at the time of his attack. And you're daughter was locked in a crawl space. If you have any interest in ever being allowed near your kid again, or getting out of jail, you'd better start talking."

Sara tilted her head to the side and noticed the vacant, far away look in her eyes. She remembered seeing that look in her own mothers eyes minutes after she'd attacked her father. It was a look of anger, confusion and sadness all in one.

She glanced down at the floor beside Maggie's feet, remembering. Her mother had been angry that she'd allowed her husband to treat her so badly for so long. Angry that in order to get away from his evil ways, she had to fight her way out. To the point of murder. Confusion and sadness because she had killed a man, but that it had brought her happiness because he'd never hurt her, or them, again. That it had to come to that . . .

Nick's fist hit the table with force that caused Sara to jump. Her eyes had seen a flash of skin of Margaret's abdomen as she jumped as well, but didn't have a chance to say anything as Nick's normally calm voice dripped with anger. "Do you understand that you're under suspicion of murder?"

Nick's outburst had gotten her attention as Maggie looked at him with a steeley gaze. But still, she said nothing.

Sara gently reached out and lifted the woman's shirt that she'd been given to change into. "Who did that to you?" she asked.

The woman finally noticed Sara. "There all the same," she said, her jaw set. She looked at Sara's left hand and noticed the absense of a gold band. "Don't ever trust them. All they ever do is hurt you."

"Who? David?" Sara asked quietly.

Again, the silence was deafening.

"We just want to find out what happened," Warrick spoke. "We can help you if you let us."

"Like I would trust you're kind," she spat venomiously. "You're all the same."

"I'll be right back," Sara said, standing up and walking out of the room without a second thought. She came back a few minutes later with Officer Laura Kent. "Can I see you two for a second?"

Warrick and Nick stood up and followed Sara into the hallway.

"She isn't responsive to men," was all she said.

"We've noticed," Warrick sighed. "She just stared at us while you were gone. It's like there's nothing there."

"She's just . . . empty," Nick shrugged, finding it difficult to find better words to describe. "I feel so useless. First Morgan won't let Warrick or I get near her, and now Margaret is stone walling us."

"Morgan had bruises on her, and she was scared of her father. Maggie has some obviously fresh bruises, based on their color. At the very least, I'd bet my life on his abusing her. That's probably why neither of them are particularly comfortable around men." She glanced through the small window in the door and saw a few stray tears trailing down Maggie's cheeks. "Let me talk to her alone."

Nick and Warrick both gave their silent nods of approval.

"If you need us, we'll be in the break room," Warrick finally spoke. Had is not been for the other female officer in the room, he knew that he, nor Nick, wouldn't have agreed to let Sara take the lead with the suspect -- victim or not.

Nick gave one final glance to Sara before he followed Warrick into the room across the hall.

Sara took a second to breathe deeply before she walked back into the room where Maggie and Laura awaited her return.

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"OK, Maggie," Sara started calmly as she took her seat at the table. She glanced back at Officer Laura Kent, who was standing in the corner of the room. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"It's over," she shrugged her shoulders as if that said it all. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Yes, it does matter. The evidence doesn't lie, and right now, it's pointing at you. If you killed David because he was cheating on you, that's one thing. But it's a whole different senario if you were protecting yourself, or your daughter. Which brings me to another question I have. Why was she locked up in an unknown room under the new addition of a dining room?"

"You found her?" she gasped, her eyes meeting Sara's once more. "How is she? Is she OK? Where is she?"

"Morgan is fine, physically. Emotionally . . . " she stopped, struggling to find the right words. "Emotionally, I don't know. She's at the clinic. She was exhausted. I did an exam on her. She hasn't been raped, but I found some bruising that happened not too long ago. The brusing supports my theory of abuse. As does the crawl space playroom. Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

"It was the only way," she broke down, sobs escaping her throat. "It was the only way to keep her safe. I had to keep her away from him, or he'd hurt her."

"Tell me everything," Sara pleaded as she saw the womans walls tumbling down.

"Nothing made sense anymore. I felt trapped, and like I'd never have the life that I always dreamed of. I wanted the house with the white picket fence, the kids, the dogs. I wanted that typical suburban life. Like the one I had growing up. I was living in Reno at the time. I decided that I needed to forget everything for a few days, so I drove to Vegas. I was at the Palms the first night that I was there. Had a couple of drinks. That's when I met David. He was so handsome. And he was paying attention to me. No one had ever chose me over everyone else in the room. But he did." She sniffed, and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Over the next couple of days, he really wooed me. Dinner and drinks, shows. Sight seeing. Everything. The works. I guess I was vulnerable because of how I was feeling, and I let myself get caught up in his attention. Before the end of my solo weekend, we were married. It was super tacky. I'll always remember it. The Intergalactic Chapel of Love."

Sara tried to fight the smile that was tugging on her lips at the memory. The minister had said to Nick that she was going to get him. She only wished she had.

"Things were good for a while. Strained because we realized that we didn't know each other like we thought we had. Except, we both agreed to stick it out and try to make it work because we'd both been raised that marriage was for life. At least, that's how I was raised. And he said he'd been raised the same way. But then, it was like someone flipped the switch. The difference was like night and day. All of a sudden, I was married to a monster. He would get drunk, and hit me. Then, he would," she choked on the words, "forced himself on me. You can't imagine how sore you are after someone attacks you like that."

Sara glanced away, clearing her throat. She stood up and grabbed the box of kleenex that was sitting at the side of the room. She offered the tissue to the woman who gratefully accepted.

"I couldn't move. I was so sore. And so scared. And all of a sudden, it was like he'd realize what he'd done. And he'd swear up and down that he'd never do it again. And I wanted to believe him. So, I never left. But soon, he was doing it weekly. Then daily. Sometimes more than once. He swore that if I said anything to anyone, he'd kill me. And my parents. I couldn't let that happen. So, I stayed quiet. Pretended like everything was OK. Morgan wasn't planned for. I didn't even know I was pregnant. If I had found out, I would've run and never told him. But it didn't work that way. We had gotten into a big fight and he pushed me down a flight of stairs in our house. I was knocked unconcious and when I came too, I was in the hospital. The neighbor had heard the yelling and called the cops. They came and found me, then called an ambulance. All of my bruises, all of my injuries - David blamed it on the fall. He didn't have a record, I'd never reported him. There was no reason to think otherwise. Besides that, I had been wearing high heels, and he said that we'd been arguing, like all couples do, and lost my balance. David insisted that he not leave my side because he was so scared for me. Really, he just wanted to make sure that I didn't say anything. No one made him leave. And then the doctor told us that the baby was unharmed, and the pregnancy shouldn't be effected."

"How did David react to the baby?"

"He was thrilled. Genuinely happy. He said that this was our chance for a fresh start. The fact that I was pregnant was my saving grace. He turned back into the man that I had first met. Sure we still had our arguments, but he didn't use his fists. After Morgan was born, my parents stayed with us for a month. He put on an act around them that he was thrilled they were there. But at night, when we were alone . . . he really hated my parents staying so long. And Morgan cried during the night, waking him up. He started forcing me to have sex with him again. After my parents left, he started hitting me. He shook Morgan so bad when she was a baby, that I thought he was going to break her neck. Eventually, she learned to be quiet because it upset Daddy. It's amazing how perceptive small children are. When she started crawling and moving her toys everywhere, he kept getting aggrivated. So, I started putting her and her toys in the crawl space. I would stay with her and watch her. It didn't matter if she made a mess. She was happy. And I was happy watching her. She's brought so much joy to my life. David saw where she was playing and told me that it was the perfect place for her. 'Out of the way.'"

Sara was disgusted. She could sympathize with the woman in front of her.

"When we moved here, the dining room and crawl space were finished really quickly. Only took a couple of days. I'm not sure how he did it, or who he hired to get it done so fast. But he did. Tonight . . . I went out to the store to get some groceries. When I left, Morgan had been napping. I was only going to be gone for ten minutes. Twenty at the most. When I got home, he was in the kitchen. He'd made a sandwich because he was hungry, telling me that I was a bad wife. That its a womans duty to keep her husband satisfied and his stomach full. Then he slapped me because the kitchen was a mess. He made that mess. I was so furious. I asked where Morgan was and he pointed to the crawl space, with the cabinet back against the wall. I had never locked her in there. Not once. When I asked why, he was walking out of the kitchen and he told me because she had been snoring. And it was distracting him from reading the paper. The paper!"

Sara felt like she was going to be sick, and the woman shook violently as the tears streamed down her face. "I didn't know what I was doing. I sort of went into a daze. I remember walking into the office. He stood up and asked me what I thought I was doing. I saw him start to ball up his fist like he was going to beat me again, and I raised my hand. And I just kept going," she moved her hand in a stabbing motion, her fist clutched as if she were still holding the knife. Her chin quivered and she realized what she had done. "I don't remember anything after that. I don't remember the police coming to the house, or how I got here. It's like I was there, with him, and now I'm with you. The whole time in between is just a complete blank."

Sara sighed, not really knowing how to proceed. She glanced back at Officer Laura Kent who was still standing in the corner, slightly in the shadows. The two law enforcement officials looked at each other with great sadness.

"Thank you," Sara finally decided on how to start. "I want to help you. But, I'm going to need a couple of things to do that, OK?"

Maggie was still crying, but managed to nod her head yes.

"I'm going to take some pictures of the bruises that I saw on your abdomen. And any other bruises that might be on your body. And I'm going to do a SART kit - "

"What's that?"

"It's a Sexual Assault and Rape Test," she softly answered. "I can do it, or another woman can do it. I'll make sure that there isn't a man near the exam room. When was the last time your husband forced himself on you?"

Maggie shifted in her chair, and didn't meet Sara's gaze. "Uh, this morning," she admitted.

"OK," Sara said. "That'll help build a case of self defense." She held her hands out for Maggie to take. When she did, she met Sara's gaze. "I promise that I will do everything I can to make sure you and your daughter are safe."

"Thank you," Maggie whispered so softly that Sara almost didn't hear her.

"I also have to check your medical records. I need to get all the information about the fall you had down the stairs, as well as anything else. If this goes to court, it will help exonnerate you. And I need you to write everything that you just told me down on a signed confession." Sara watched as the woman let everything soak in. "You'll also need a psychiatric exam. It will also help your case. And it might explain why you can't remember a part of what happened tonight."

"When will that happen?"

"A town like Pioche just doesn't have the resources for a lot of these things, so you'll have to be transported back to Vegas. I have to take the pictures and do the SART kit tonight though."

Maggie nodded her head in understanding. She watched as Sara stood up. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get the kit from the clinic. Unfortunately, you can't leave the premises unless you are having a serious medical emergency. I can either do it, with your consent, or I can have one of the nurses come back. It's whatever you need. There will have to be at least one other person in the room though."

"A woman?" Sara nodded in confirmation. Maggie glanced at the officer in the corner, and asked her silently. Laura just nodded her head in the same way that Sara had done. "OK. You can do it."

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Sara said. She opened the door, but stopped when she heard Maggie's voice.

"When will I be able to see my daughter?"

"I'm not sure," she answered truthfully. "But you're parents on their way. I'll make sure that they can take care of her until you can be with her yourself."

Again, more tears fell down Maggie's face. "Thank you, Ms. Sidle."

Sara smiled back at her through her own tears that were threatening to fall.

She closed the door tightly behind her and felt the warm salty tears cascade down her cheeks.

TBC . . . .


	5. Chapter 5

To those who take the time to reply, I really appreciate it:) And once again, I don't own CSI, CBS does (bummer) . . . .

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After she left Maggie in the interrogation room, she had informed Warrick and Nick about what had happened. Knowing that aside from the SART exam, which neither of them could be present for, there was nothing that any of them could do on the case that night. She had sent the two back to the motel to check in, and she would be there as soon as she could.

It had only taken her about thirty minutes to see them again. She had done the SART exam as quickly and painlessly as possible, then taken the photos of the bruises, both new and old, on Maggie's body. The woman was thouroughly exhausted, so Sara told her to go back to the holding cell for the night and to try and rest.

"I can sleep on the floor, if you're uncomfortable," Nick said quietly, shaking her from her thoughts.

Sara shook her head and looked at Nick who was sitting beside her in the diner booth. "No, it's fine. It's big enough for the both of us. Besides, it's not fair that you would have to sleep on the floor just because the motel only had one room left that didn't have some kind of water damage to it."

There were only 10 rooms in the small Pioche motel, four of which had been vacant when Grissom had called to reserve two rooms earlier in the evening. One for Sara, and the other for Warrick and Nick. She had returned to the motel only to be told by her friends that a couple of pipes had burst and there was only one room available. But it only had two beds. The establishment did not offer cots, and did not have sofas.

When she first entered the room, the bed nearest the door had looked so inviting that she crawled on top of it and placed her head on the pillow closing her eyes. Nick had laid down beside her, and Warrick flopped down onto the middle of his own bed.

"This one yours?" Sara had asked quietly, opening one eye.

Nick nodded, smiling slightly. "Warrick and I really weren't sure how to decide who would sleep with you." Sara's eyebrow shot up in surprise, and she heard Warrick chuckle. "That sounded wrong. Not that it would be bad at all . . ." he rolled his eyes at himself, "What I meant was -"

"No, it's OK," Sara smirked, placing a hand on his chest. She could feel his muscles twitch beneath her finger tips, under the thin layer of cotton that his shirt provided him with. "I get it. Besides, Warrick over there looks like a bed hog. And Cath says he kicks."

"Oh really?" Warrick rolled over onto his side. "You two talk about me? What else does she say?"

"Oh no," she laughed. "I'm not going there!"

Warrick pouted a little causing her to laugh.

"You wanna grab a shower? Warrick and I already did - we showered separately, Sidle," he cocked his eyebrow up at her, knowing exactly what she was going to say. She placed her hands up in mock defeat, giggling. "You might feel better, and after that, we'll go grab a bite to eat."

She nodded her head in agreement, though she wasn't really hungry. "Sure," she stood up and paused as she passed Warrick's bed on her way to the back of the room where the bathroom was located. "And Warrick?" she noted he glanced at her waiting for her to continue. "Everything Catherine has said about you . . . well, lets just say it's all complimentary."

Warrick smiled triumphantly. "HA!"

Nick groaned. "More than I needed to know."

So, she showered, dressed and the three of them headed across the parking lot of the motel to the diner that they were now seated at.

"Bacon Cheddar burger," Warrick smiled at the waitress, handing his menu to her. He glanced across the table at Nick and Sara.

"Same here," Nick agreed. "Sara?"

"Uh, just a garden salad."

"Sar, you have to eat more than that," Nick softly told her.

"Nah," she shook her head. "Not really hungry." She glanced and saw that he was about to reply. "I'll probably have a big breakfast though." She turned back to the waitress. "Whatever salad dressing you have in the back will be fine. Ranch, Thousand Island, I'm not picky." She smiled, handing the woman her menu.

"Can I refill your coffees while you wait?" she asked.

The three nodded their heads appreciatively. At least the diner had good coffee.

"So," Warrick started casually, his voice low, even though there weren't many people in the sleepy little towns diner at this time of night. "You didn't tell us about the kit."

"Confirms it," she nodded, looking down into the black liquid heaven in her mug. "Evidence that it also wasn't the first time."

"You handled everything really well, Sara," Warrick complimented her.

"You did. Morgan really trusts you," Nick smiled. "And you said you weren't good with kids."

She brushed off the compliments, not really used to having them come her way. Well, actually the people at the crime lab complimented her regularly, but she really didn't know how to respond. Growing up, if someone complimented her, it was usually immediately followed up with 'can I ask you a favor?' "I just hope that Morgan is able to be with her mother after all this. Or it could really screw her up," she bite her lip gently, staring back down into the coffee.

"We don't even know if she's been completely straight with you," Warrick cautioned. He received one of her looks, and he put his hands up in surrender. "I just don't want you to be disappointed. It's not like people who've just committed a crime come out and say it immediately. It just doesn't normally happen that way. And if they do, they aren't always giving you the complete truth. How can you be sure that she is?"

Sara looked at Warrick, and opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't find the words. She literally didn't know how to explain it.

"Sar?" Nick said, his hand gently found her shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing cirlces over her shoulder blade. He was getting concerned. She had been spacing out a lot, and it just wasn't like her.

"Don't ask me how I know she's telling the truth," she calmly said, but her voice sounded like she was pleading with them to believe her. Not to push her any farther. "I just do." Her cell phone, which had been resting on the table, started to move around as it vibrated. She opened it up. "Sidle . . . yeah, I'll be right there." She hung up the phone and quickly stood up. "That was the nurse at the clinic. Morgan woke up and they can't get her to calm down."

Warrick dangled the Denali keys in his fingers for Sara to take.

"Thanks, I don't know how long I'll be," she said grabbing the keys from his hand. She started to walk away, but Nick's voice called out to her.

"Sara," he drawled, digging into his pocket, "don't forget this."

She smiled at him. She reached out to take the single key to the motel room, and their fingers brushed together, a spark of electricity flowing through them. "How will you two get in?"

"I have the spare," Warrick answered, patting his front jean pocket.

"OK," she nodded, throwing them a slight smile before taking off out the door.

Both Warrick and Nick watched her go.

"I think she should've taken some time for herself," Warrick sighed. "I don't think she's dealt with her mothers death."

Nick nodded his head as he watched her jump into the Denali that was still parked in front of their motel room. She had sprinted across the darkened parking lot to get there quickly. "Man - this case is effecting her so much. I have never seen her throw herself into something emotionally. Not this fast, anyway. I'm worried about her." He could only hope that she would open up to him, or anyone, about whatever was weighing her down so heavily.

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"How long has she been like this?" Sara asked the nurse as she walked straight into the room where Morgan was sitting in a ball, trying to make herself disappear into the material of the mattress.

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes," she guessed. "We tried to comfort her, but she just . . . I don't know. We've never had to deal with anything like this," the nurse was a little sharp and Sara glared at her. The doctors and nurses were on call 24/7 due to their location of not being close to a hospital. She suspected this was the first time that the 50-something nurse had an all-night shift.

She removed her fixed glare from the nurse and her face softened as she turned her attention back to Morgan. "Sweetie? It's Sara."

"Sara?" she wailed, glancing over her knees and into Sara's brown eyes. "I'm scared."

Sara immediately sat down on the bed beside the young girl and pulled her into her chest, craddling her soothingly, rocking them back and forth. "I know sweetie."

The little girl clung to Sara as if she was going to drown, continuing to cry, alarmingly loud.

"Sshh," she continued rocking Morgan. "It's OK, sweetie. Let it out," she stroked her back. "You're safe now." A single tear fell down her face. "Everything's going to be OK."

And that's how they sat. Sara rocking the young child in her arms, craddling her protectively, muttering soothing words of comfort, until she fell asleep. And even then, Sara did not. She just sat with Morgan, continuing to whisper that it was OK, hoping to ward off the nightmares that the girl was sure to experience in the days to come.

At nearly 2am, the door slightly opened, allowing a little more light from the clinic's hallway to filter in. Morgan was still nestled in Sara's arms, only her face was calm, but still tear stained. She sucked her thumb soundly.

"Ms. Sidle?" the nurse spoke quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping child. Sara glanced at her, waiting for her to continue. "The girls Grandparents are in the waiting room. I asked them to stay out there so I could come and get you. I didn't know if it was alright for them to come back here or not, being that you are investigating a crime and all," she surpressed a yawn. "And I thought you might want to explain to them what's happening, exactly."

"Thank you," Sara smiled a little, as she gently untangled herself from the childs arms. She slowly got off the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress. "She's been sleeping for a while, but I don't think she should be alone. Would you mind staying with her until I've had a chance to speak with the Grandparents?"

The nurse nodded her head in compliance, setting herself down on the uncomfortable chair near the window, moonlight gently cascading in, bathing the bed in a gentle glow.

"You must be Morgan's grandparents," Sara smiled at the elderly couple as she walked into the waiting room. They looked distraught and overwhelmingly sad. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your last name when we spoke earlier . . ."

"Brooks," Harold nodded, extending his hand out to Sara. "I'm Harold and this is Mary."

"Sara Sidle," she managed a half smile, and motioned for them to take a seat in the small waiting room. "I spoke with your daughter earlier this evening, and according to her, she and your granddaughter have been through quite an ordeal with David. As I told you earlier tonight, David was killed in the family home."

"What kind of ordeal?" Mary asked, not really sure she could handle it.

"Well, I can't really get into the specifics of that. You're daughter will have to fill in the blanks. What I can tell you is that right now, she is being held in the town jail." Sara saw the shocked looks on the parents faces. "You're daughter told me what happened. She admitted to killing David. And I'm going to do everything that I can to help her, Morgan, and you two, through this. But you need to know that at this point, Maggie can't be Morgan's gaurdian. They won't be able to see each other for a few days. It's pending on a psychiatric evaluation." Harold and Mary were quietly sobbing in each others arms. "I know this is a lot to take in."

"How is Morgan?" Harold finally asked.

"She's scared," Sara answered. "She had a nightmare earlier tonight, but she's sleeping right now."

"You mentioned that Maggie can't being Morgan's gaurdian. What's going to happen to her?"

"She'll be placed in the system, but you two can petition the courts to take temporary custody. If it comes down to it, you can seek sole custody and adopt your granddaughter."

"The system?" Mary gasped.

"It's standard procedure, but that doesn't mean that she'll be with a foster family. If you choose to petition the courts, she can go home with you pretty much immediately. Being that you are Morgan's immediate family, clearance should only take a couple of hours. But until a permanent solution can be made, a social worker would be stopping by to check on her welfare."

"Can we sit with her?" Mary asked. "I don't want my Grandbaby to be all alone."

Sara smiled at the elderly couple. "Of course. I think she needs you to be there for her. I'll take you to her."

Sara led the couple silently towards the room in the back of the clinic. She peered in through the window and noticed that Morgan was still sleeping soundly, thumb still fixed in her mouth. "The nurse has my cell phone number in case you-" she stopped when Harold pulled out a little piece of paper from his pant pocket. "Sorry, I forgot I gave it to you earlier."

"Thank you for everything you've done Ms. Sidle," Mary tried to smile through her tears, but more continued to fall.

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Nick woke up to the bright lights of a vehicle shining into the motel window. He glanced over at the clock that now read 3:03 am. He could hear Sara close the door to the SUV and waited patiently for her to unlock the door to the room and creep in. But she didn't.

At 3:06 am, he swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He gently opened the heavy wood door and stepped outside. He could see her slowly making her way down to the river that ran along the back of the motel, eventually dumping the river water into the lake. He re-entered the motel room, gently closing the door behind him so he didn't wake Warrick who was not only kicking in his sleep, but snoring. He picked up his discarded jeans and slipped them on, doing up the zipper and button.

Carefully, he exited the room, spare motel room key in his hand, no shoes on his feet. He thought that maybe Sara had left her key at the clinic, and just didn't want to go back to retrieve it.

He was quiet as he came up behind her. He noted with concern that her shoulders were shaking slightly. "Hey," he announced his presents, putting a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and recoiled at his touch. He quickly removed his hand as if he'd burned her unintentionally.

"Sorry," he apologized, "are you OK? Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," she said defiantly, trying to wipe away the traces of tears. But it was too late. He'd already seen them.

"Hey," he said again. This time, she turned to look at him and the tears openly flowed. He wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs, but the tears started to fall faster and he couldn't wipe them away as quickly as they came. He pulled her into his arms as her body gently shook with sobs that she had been holding back since they'd arrived at the scene. And if she was honest with herself, a part of her had wanted to cry when she was telling Nick and Warrick about her brother when they were on route to the town.

"It's OK," Nick soothed, running one of his hands up and down her back, while the other hand cradle her head at the base of her skull. He revelled in the silky feel of her hair. "Everythings going to be OK."

"Don't say that," she cried, gently pushing herself out of his embrace.

He stood there, unsure of what to say or do. When she started to walk closer to the water, he followed her.

She sat down, taking her shoes off of her feet, her socks following just as quickly. Her toes burried into the sand. He sank down beside her. She looked so hauntingly beautiful at the waters edge, tears cascading down her cheeks, the moon illuminating her pale features.

"I promise Sara," he tried again, this time wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. "Whatever it is, it's going to be OK."

"That's what I said to Morgan," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I told her it would be OK. I lied to her. How can I keep lying?"

"You didn't lie -"

"YES I DID!" she errupted. She was surprised that she had even yelled and then burried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, Nick. But, it's not going to be OK. I lied. I know I lied. And I keep lying. You tell one lie to protect yourself, and then the next thing you know, you have to lie again to keep the first lie going. It's like I can't stop. I shouldn't have given Morgan a false sense of security. I just . . . I shouldn't have."

"What are you talking about? Sara, you've never lied," he said quietly.

She sniffed and a new flood of tears started to flow. "Yes, I did. I do," she corrected. "I've lied to everyone, Nick. For a long, long time. And I've been lying to you."

TBC . . .


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for the replies:) I do not own CSI, and if I did, there would be no such thing as GSR -- it would all be Snickers and YoBling, baby!

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"I lied," she said again, breathing deeply. "I hate it, but I can't stop."

"Sara, whatever you lied about, I'm sure you had your reasons," Nick tried to reassure her. "I know you."

"How can you really know a liar?" she questioned. "I feel like I don't even know myself."

Nick cupped her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his gaze. "You might not feel like you know yourself, but I do. I know you." He pointed to her heart, "I know the real you. Not the person that you present at work. Not the tough woman who doesn't take crap from anyone. I mean, you are tough and you don't take crap from anyone, but I know that there is more to you than that. I know the Sara that is thoughtful, kind, giving, generous and loving. The one who goes out of her way for those around her to make them feel better even when she's the one who needs it," he remembered back to when the team had been split up.

He had been able to see that she was going through something emotional, and although he wanted to reach out to her, he hadn't known how. Sure, he was the people person of the team, but that was with victims. People that he hadn't known. He knew Sara, and she was not one to break down easily. He knew it was big, and he secretly feared that he wouldn't be able to help her - only hinder her. And then he'd been kidnapped. And she was always there for him. Sometimes he'd call her, needing some company and she'd come without a moments hesitation, dropping everything for him. Sometimes she'd just show up, unannounced, but somehow, knowing that he needed someone. Her. Sometimes he would do his best to push her away, but she wouldn't leave. She'd give him his space, and wouldn't press him to talk, but she wouldn't leave him alone. It was during this time that he realized his feelings for her went beyond friendship. He knew he loved her, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind to even consider anything romantic with her. And if she didn't reciprocate his feelings, he wouldn't have been able to handle the rejection. But slowly, things had started to return to normal and they had all fallen into their normal patterns - both personally and professionally.

Ever since, he'd wanted to tell her how he felt, but he was worried. He hadn't seen any obvious signs that she felt the same, and his fear of ruining their amazing friendship kept him from saying anything.

"We're a family, Sara. We love you. I love you," he spoke from his heart. He just wish she realized how true those words were. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it. That's what families do."

She laughed bitterly. "I don't deserve you guys as my family. I really don't. Hell, I don't even think I know what a family is."

"I don't understand?"

"My family never existed Nick. We were just shells of human beings."

"Sara, how can you say your family never existed? That you lied?" Nick pleaded. "Please, Sara. I want to understand. Don't shut me out. Let me help you."

She looked into his eyes and could feel the walls around herself crumbling again. "I know that Maggie is telling the truth because I looked in her eyes and saw it. I saw my family. My childhood. And I know I lied to Morgan because I've been where she is. And it's not OK. It never will be."

"Oh, God, Sara, I -"

"Didn't know?" she asked. "I know. I lied because I don't want to see the pity in everyones eyes. I've been there. And it's not fun."

"Sara, you were there for me when I needed you. If you hadn't been there, I don't think I would have survived," a single tear slipped down his face. "Everyone else treated me with kid gloves. But you were just you. Let me help you. Let me be here for you like you were there for me. Tell me what happened."

Sara looked up at the stars. She started to cry when she felt Nick pulling her close to him again. But this time, she didn't fight it. She let the tears fall and she curled herself into Nick's embrace, surprising him a little. She wrapped her arms around him and held on as if he was her life preserver - much the way Morgan had hung on to her earlier in the night.

"My mom wasn't was in a care home because of a car accident and she wasn't in a coma. She lost her mind. She went crazy," she blurted out. "Because she killed my father."

"Oh, God," Nick breathed. "No wonder this case is getting to you."

"He beat my mom. My brother and I grew up thinking it was normal for families to fight like that. The yelling and screaming. Sometimes I would cry in bed at night, other times, I would sneak into Brian's room just so I didn't have to be alone. My mom just wanted to protect us so badly. She would take the blame for everything that set him off, even if it was one of my toys laying on the floor that he tripped over after she'd asked me to pick it up. It had been a really bad night and Brian had a huge paper due. He needed to go the library, but Dad told him not too. Mom and I told him to sneak out. Dad never ever checked on us, and he'd just assume that he was pissed off in his room or something. That's what we thought anyway. He and Mom kept screaming at each other. The B&B wasn't doing too well, and money was tight. I was upstairs in my room when I heard him coming. He threw open my door and he saw a new book on my desk. I still had the receipt with it. He was furious because it cost thirty bucks. I had saved my money and bought it myself, though. He threw the book through the bedroom window and then he grabbed me," she sniffed. God, she hated remembering. "He'd hit me before. And I knew the look in his eye wasn't about wanting to use his fists. I'd seen him look at my mother like that." She closed her eyes, trying to fight off the images.

Nick wanted to puke, memories of his own molestation from child hood hitting him right between the eyes. "Sara, did he . . . did he -"

"Rape me?" she finished. She saw him nod his head in confirmation that that was his quesiton. "No. He didn't. But he would have. If my mom hadn't stabbed him. Eight times. In the chest. With a butcher knife. In my bedroom, right in front of me. I was 12, Nick. And I'll never get that out of my head. Not ever. After she'd stabbed him, I looked at her. She was pale, and I remember the exact moment where she knew exactly what she'd done. She started to cry. She was relieved because he'd never hurt us again. But then, he moaned. He was in pain, laying on my floor. And she looked at him with this look in her eyes that I never want to see again. It was hatred and rage. And emptiness. She stabbed him again, but this time, the knife went straight into his heart." She folded her hands nervously in her lap, not really sure when she'd let go of Nick's embrace.

"She had this vacant look in her eye when she left my room. I was so scared. I couldn't move. I couldn't go after her. I just stood there, looking at his lifeless body. The blood spatter on the walls, the smell of iron. Everything about it - its just stuck with me. I stayed there for a while. I heard Brian screaming when he came home. He found mom, sitting on the couch. Just like Maggie. She didn't even know we were there. He found me in my room, just sitting on the floor with my back against the wall. He called 911. Mom was declared mentally unfit and wouldn't be able to stand trial. That's why I was sent to foster care." She took a deep breath, trying to stop the flow of tears, but it was useless. "She sat in a room, in a nursing home, for the last 23 years just staring at the wall."

Nick saw more tears rolling down her face. Her voice didn't waver, but her eyes told him how much pain she was in. He pulled her close to his chest, hugging her body to his. "I'm so sorry, Sara."

"What if that happens to Maggie? What if Morgan has to see her mom like that?" she asked, her voice void of the emotions that she felt bubbling at the surface, ready to spill over. But, she was taking comfort in the soothing patterns Nick was rubbing on her back. "I know that I was older and actually saw what my mother did to my father, but I don't think it'll be much easier for Morgan. Even though she didn't see it, and she won't have the vivid memories that I do when she grows up, she'll still know."

"Kids are resilent," Nick answered. "I know. Believe me, I do." One of his hands moved from her back and came to rest on top of her hand that was resting against his steadily beating heart. "You are an amazing person, Sara. You got through it with little to no help. I saw Morgan's eyes today, when you were holding her. Sara, I think she has your fighting spirit. She's going to get through it. And she has grandparents to help her. Her mother, hopefully, too."

"Well thats the second reason I became a CSI," she sighed. "My parents. My history with them. And my brothers over dose. I've got a lot of baggage."

"No," he disagreed. "You had a difficult past. But you've over come it. We can't change our pasts, Sar. We have to accept them, and learn to live with them. We learn to deal with it. I've always admired you. Now, I admire you even more." She smiled slightly into his chest, unsure of what she'd ever done so right to be lucky enough to have a guy like Nick Stokes in her life. "You're life is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Nicky?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you forgive me?" her voice cracked.

"Honey, there is nothing to forgive. You said that you didn't want people to look at you with pity. I understand that."

"How?" she asked.

He breathed deeply. "Up until a few years ago, I'd never told this to anyone. I never would have, but a case kind of made me," he smirked. "See you and me? We're not so different."

She smiled, glad that she wasn't the only one doing some confessing about secrets that they'd kept.

"Catherine and I were working a case, and we suspected that a 14 year old boy had been molested by his therapist. I was getting too involved and Cath threatened to take me off the case. I think I needed to stick with it, for myself, to get closure. I told her something I wanted to keep burried. When I was nine, there was a last minute babysitter. She molested me."

"Oh, Nicky," she sniffed, reaching up and stroking his face. He reached up and grabbed her fingers in his palm. He brought the back of her hand up to his lips and kissed her smooth skin. He then dropped their hands onto his lap, lacing their fingers together.

"My family is full of well respected people. Doctors. Lawyers. Cops. My Dad is a judge and my mom was a District Attorney. I always knew that I was born into a family where great things were expected of me. No one had ever been a CSI in my family though. I was the first. I knew that I wanted to do this for a living when I realized that the only way I'd ever feel peace is by giving it to those who can't give it to themselves."

"Yeah," she agreed softly. "I understand that."

She chuckled lightly when she saw Nick trying to stifle a yawn. The sun was just beginning to peak above the horizon.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"Don't," she shook her head. "I'm tired too."

He smiled at her, stood up and then helped her off the ground. He bent down and picked up her shoes and socks with one hand, while re-lacing their fingers together with the other.

Silently, he lead them back to the motel room. Once inside, they both chuckled at Warrick who was still snoring just like when Nick had left him.

"Cath forgot to mention that he was a fog horn -- able to guide ships to the shore."

Nick smirked. "And he drools. But, for for the snoring . . . well, I figured something out the last time he and I were sharing a room when we were working out of town."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" she asked as she slipped under the covers of the bed, not bothering to change. She would just wear those clothes until the morning. She'd change into the fresh clothes that had been stowed away in her bag then.

Nick grabbed a pillow from Warrick's bed that he hadn't been using. He laid down on the bed with Sara, finding himself a comfortable spot. "Just this."

She giggled at his impish smirk before he whipped the pillow at Warrick's head, smacking him directly in the face. The pillow fell away and Warrick's hand reached up, swatting at the offending item. Finding nothing, he groaned and rolled over, never once waking up.

The snoring ceased.

"You have the magic touch, Stokes," Sara smirked, laying on her side facing him.

"Don't you ever forget it, Sidle," he winked, turning his head to face her.

"What would I do without you?" she giggled, trying to fake a southern drawl but failed miserably.

Nick laughed lightly, finding her attempt cute. He turned over on his side, so there chests were nearly pressed together. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. He was propped up on his elbow, but his hand gently brushed a piece of her hair away from her eyes. "You'll never have to find out."

Without hesitation, she curled into him a little more, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Nicky," she murmured before falling into a peaceful slumber almost immediately as the exhaustion from the night claimed her body.

He smiled a little at her sleeping form nestled in his arms. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "I'll never leave you, Sara. I promise."

And soon, sleep claimed him once again as well.

TBC . . . .


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for the replies

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Warrick groaned as the sunlight streamed into the room through the slightly open curtains. He rolled over to see the digital read out on the clock, but his attention was immediately focused on the two bodies sleeping soundly, fused together as one. He smirked.

In the years that they'd all known each other, he and everyone else who came into contact with them knew that there was an under lying chemistry. At first, he and Nick had been joking about Nick's crush on her when she first came to Vegas. He definitely had a ladies man reputation. One that hadn't been entirely deserved, but he knew that his past wasn't entirely innocent either. Warrick hadn't been all that fond of her because she'd been called into investigate him and then recommended to Grissom that he be terminated for his role in Holly Gribb's death. But it hadn't taken long for the two of them to become friends, and Warrick had realized that she was only doing her job. He would've made the same recommendation if he'd been in Sara's position. It was then that Warrick had warned Nick that if he hurt Sara, there would be hell to pay.

But their obviously more than friendly relationship never seemed to go beyond endless flirting and stolen glances. He had occassionally noticed Sara glancing at Nick, but it had been more subtle, and she was definitely more careful than Nick. He just outright stared, and didn't really care who saw. And most people did see. It had been the topic of lab gossip on more than one occassion - the rumor mill always going into overdrive when one of them had faced something particularly horrible. Like when Sara had gotten into it with a suspect, then Catherine and Ecklie, and faced a suspension. Or when she's been grabbed by the sexual predator while at the Institution with Grissom. Or when Nick had been abducted. Or when he had become particularly attached the Cassie McBride case. Although it hadn't happened in Vegas, calls home for assistance from people like Archie or Catherine, or a few of Warrick's harmless comments once back at the lab during that case had sent a few peoples imaginations into overdrive. It was always during these personally trying times that people wonder if it was the push they needed to end up in one another arms and hold on for dear life.

But they could also press each others buttons and get on one anothers nerves. Warrick remembered how unnerved Nick had been when Sara had been upset with him for giving Mr. Young "peace" by telling him that he felt like his son had died a hero. Sophia Renatta and Mr. Young's son Mark had been at the lake, base jumping off a fifty foot cliff after renting wave runners. She went under, and it appeared as though she hit her head on a rock. When Sophia didn't resurface, Nick decided that Mark must've jumped in after her. According to Doc Robbins, he had a ruptured tympanic membrane consistant with a sudden drop - most likely from the top of the cliff and into the water, his body being found 26 feet under. Sara didn't believe they had any evidence to support such a theory, and believed that Mark may have killed her and then had an accident himself. Either way, they were both dead, but she still didn't think they either of them had any right to tell Mr. Young something that might not be true.

But, they could never stay mad at each other long. Generally by the end of the shift, there was an unspoken apology. If they had a particularly bad disagreement, which normally they didn't, they would talk privately and verbalize what they both already knew. That they were sorry.

Warrick was only confused by one thing though: why it was taking them so long to figure out what everyone else already knew. That they were perfect for each other.

He assumed that for Sara, it was her fear of rejection. She's spent a lot of her time in Vegas fixated on Grissom. Probably because he was the most unattainable. She would be disappointed if he didn't return her affection, but at least it wouldn't break her heart. After all, how can your heart be broken if the person who breaks it doesn't know its in their hands? Well, he knew that it was possible . . . but he also sensed that the only reason why Sara was ever fixated on him in the first place was because he'd asked her to come to Vegas because he needed her help. He sensed that that hadn't happened very often in her past and that it was a big moment for her to be needed -- wanted -- by someone. He was sure that that is what had kicked it off. But then, after he started seeing Sara stealing glances at Nick, he wondered if she kept her torch for Gris because she'd heard about Nick's reputation. Felt like someone who was as open and caring as Nick wouldn't want her . . . he knew it was crazy, but he knew that if that's what Sara was thinking, she was terrified of the rejection. So, she kept him at arms length . . .

As for why Nick never made a move, at first, he figured it was sheer stupidity. Sara was the first woman that ever challenged Nick, and stood up to him. Not necessarily to be confrontational, but to add her opinion into the mix. It probably had intimidated him. And then Nick figured out about her 'feelings' for Grissom. And at that point, he was already in deep, he had her friendship. He had told Warrick at one point that he couldn't risk their friendship at the chance for something more when he knew it would never happen. Warrick had tried to convince him otherwise, but Nick was just as stubborn as Sara. Except the difference was, she was stubborn over cases. He was stubborn over matters of the heart.

Finally, he glanced at the clock that read 7:46am. Sighing, he sat up, placing his bare feet on the carpet, and rubbed his sleepy eyes, yawning.

He noticed that Sara's eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if she was dreaming about something unpleasant. He smiled softly when he noticed Nick pull her closer to him, allowing her head to rest in the crook of his neck while his head rested gently atop hers. Sara clutched Nick's shirt over his heart, a soft sigh escaping.

"What's it gonna take, huh?" he asked their sleeping forms. Chuckling, he stood up and grabbed his over night bag, heading for the washroom to shower and brush his teeth.

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Sara woke up a few minutes later to the sound of the water in the bathroom turning on. It took her a few minutes to realize that she had taken a hold of the material of Nick's shirt. She gasped when it dawned on her that she had slept in a bed with him and woke up in his arms. A small smile played on her lips when she felt his left hand, which was sitting on her right hip underneath the fabric of her shirt, start to knead her flesh.

"Nick?" she asked quietly so not to wake him if he wasn't already.

"Hmm?" he sighed contentedly, as if this is how they woke up everyday.

"Good morning," she smiled.

"Morning," he mumbled, obviously still just waking up. He didn't hesitate to drop a kiss on the top of her head. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've had in a long time," she answered sincerely. "Too bad it was only a few hours."

"Close your eyes," he said softly. "You don't have to get up yet."

"I don't think I can sleep," she answered. It was the truth. While she wanted to close her eyes and slip back into sleep with his arms wrapped protectively around her, she couldn't. He was holding her. She didn't want that to end. Nor did she want to sleep through it. She wanted to memorize his touch.

His eyes shot open and he suddenly realized that his hand was on her flesh, massaging her hip. A blush crept into his cheeks as he regretfully stopped and pulled his hand from her shirt. He slighty rolled back, his head now resting on his pillow rather than the top of her head. His arms remained wrapped around her, though.

The loss of the close contact immediately left both of them feeling a sense of loss.

He glanced down at her face, inspecting her features in the early morning sun. She looked like an angel. Without thinking, he brought his index finger to her forehead and lightly pushed some stray hair out of her eyes. She glanced up at him and their eyes locked. He didn't pull away, but allowed his finger to continue on it's path to her temple, pushing the hair behind her ear.

Unable to resist the slightly rosy cheek, his index finger returned to the soft skin and he traced his way down to her chin. "What're you thinking about?"

She swallowed hard. So many thoughts were swirling around at once, she couldn't really tell which one was dominating. His finger was now tracing the sensitive skin on her neck and was heading up the curve of her shoulder. She realized that her own hand had somehow made its way to the nape of his neck, playing with the fine hairs.

Not really good at discussing what she was feeling, she hoped that actions were speaking louder than her words ever could. But more than that, she had to say something. "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have dumped all that on you."

"Don't ever apologize, Sara. I'm glad that you told me. And no, you didn't dump it on me. I meant what I said. I wanted to understand. And now I do. And I'll do everything I can to help you."

"It's in the past, Nick. I've dealt with it," she said softly. "You don't have to worry about me falling apart again. That's the first time a case has ever resembled -" she swallowed hard, "what I went through."

He looked in her eyes and noted that no matter what he said, she was going to fight him tooth and nail. But he decided that he would try a different route. "Still, when you feel like it, or something else, is over whelming you, I want you to know that you can come to me. There is nothing worse than feeling like you're all alone. After everything you went through, alone, you've become such a beautiful person. Both inside and out. I'm in awe of you, Sara."

She blushed when she felt his lips once again make contact with her. Only this time, instead of the top of her head, it was her cheek. Last night, she could vaguely remember the feel of his lips on her forehead. She thought that maybe she'd dreamt it, but now she was starting to wonder if she hadn't . . .

"Thank you for trusting me, Nick," she said honestly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She saw his questioning look and she continued. "You confided in me last night too, remember?"

His smile faultered a little, but then it returned. "I've wanted to tell you for a long time Sara. I knew I could trust you, but it wasn't easy to just casually work into conversation."

"Hey," she said quietly, one of her hands stopped playing with his hair and her finger traced it's way from the back of his neck to his cheek. "I understand. You don't need to explain, or apologize. Really."

The smiled at each other and just relaxed back into the pillows for a few more minutes. No words were spoken, but they never looked anywhere than each others eyes.

Warrick exitted the bathroom quietly, careful not to wake the rooms other occupants. He padded into the room and smirked when he realized they were both awake, but hadn't noticed him. He doubt they even knew he was awake and in the bathroom. They were lost in each other.

Nick's hand had absently made it's way back to her hip, and was caressing her, while her hand was rubbing Nick's arm up and down.

Warrick cleared his throat, announcing his presense. "Morning." He watched as they slowly stopped their hands and untangled themselves from one another. He noticed that they both looked upset about doing so.

"Morning," they grumbled back.

"Showers free."

Nick told Sara to go first, so she did. She stood up and grabbed her bag, much like Warrick had done earlier when she was sleeping peacefully in Nick's arms.

After the door was shut behind her, Warrick turn to Nick and sat down with a thud on his own bed. "Man, you've got it bad."

Nick just looked at Warrick, but said nothing.

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Just like Sara had promised him the night before, she ate a large breakfast. They'd stopped at the diner and grabbed some food before making their way to the picnic table at the play ground like they had done when they were working the McBride case.

"Good mornin'," the Sheriff greeted the three as he stepped towards them, tipping his hat.

"Good morning," Sara smiled. Nick and Warrick nodded their heads. "Would you like to sit down?" she asked.

The Sheriff shook his head and took the seat beside Warrick that was vacant, Sara across from him, but still impossibly close to Nick.

"What's up?" Warrick asked, taking a bite of his bagel.

"Officer Kent is going to be transporting Maggie to Vegas PD," he answered. "Laura said that Maggie almost seems at ease with her now."

Sara nodded her head. Laura had been the officer in the interrogation room with Maggie when they'd found out what happened. She'd also been in the room when Maggie had Sara perform the SART exam. "Yeah. Is there another female officer who can accompany her?"

"No, Laura's the only female PD here in town," he looked concerned.

"Don't worry," Nick said, "Laura will be fine. We can caravan together incase any issue presents itself."

"Good, good," he sighed with relief. "I'd ask that Ms. Sidle join her, but Morgan probably wouldn't fair to well."

It was a known, but unspoken fact. Morgan and Maggie couldn't see one another until after the doctors and police had deemed it safe. And since Pioche was a small town, the proper documents couldn't be created and signed giving Morgan's grandparents temporary custody. The CSIs would have to take her back with them in the Denali. Sara, by law, could not travel with the child and her grandparents because they were all civilians. The fact that only one officer was escorting a murder suspect who might be on the verge of a break down was already bending the rules and pushing the boundaries enough for one case.

"We're going to need a Booster seat," Nick said absently, staring at the playground where he watched young children playing with their parents.

"It's being taken care of," the Sheriff answered. "Laura has a little boy about Morgan's age, so she knows the importance of it. She had her husband take the booster seat from the back of her car out. It's in my trunk now. She'll pick it up before she turns around and comes home later today."

Nick decided that he would help the Sheriff put the booster in the back seat of the Denali. It had been a few years since the man had had any children. Nick, however, had had recent experience. On his trips back to Dallas, he'd babysit his nieces and nephews not only to get to know them since he really didn't have that opportunity since he no longer lived there, but also to give his siblings and their spouses a break.

Sometimes he'd just borrow their vehicles, but other times, he'd have five and six kids, which would make driving in a small car or old pick up truck not only dangerous and illegal, but impossible. So, he'd have to borrow someones mini van and place a child restraint system or two inside. While the process had been frustrating at first, he was always rewarded at the end with a smile or two from the kids that made it all worth it. And he wondered just what it would be like to see his own son or daughter smiling back at him like that.

A smile took over Nick's face when he heard Morgan's giggle as she yelled out to Sara, announcing her presense. Obviously the girl had formed a bond with Sara, as Sara had with her. He saw the smile that over took the brunettes face as she turned her body around to the little girl who then launched herself into Sara's arms. He saw the girls grandparents slowly, tiredly, making their way towards the picnic table. Obviously, Morgan was happy to seem them. And they were happy that she was alive. 'No matter what, at least she has them,' Nick thought sadly.

The sunlight filtered over Sara and Morgan, making them glow. Morgan excitedly asked Sara a question, to which she responded with a simple, short answer. Though Nick couldn't hear them, or read lips, he knew that she'd agreed to play with Morgan at the playground with all the other kids and their parents. The little girl excitedly held on to Sara's hand and tugged her towards the equiptment.

Turning back to the booster seat inside, making a few final adjustments making it safe for the little girl, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever get the chance to install a car seat for his and Sara's child . . .

TBC . . . . .


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for the replies! They make my day!

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Three weeks had gone by since returning from Pioche to Las Vegas. The time had flown by quickly as Sara had prepped endlessly making sure that Maggie would receive the best defense and the minimum punishment. She had also secured Morgan's temporary custody with her grandparents. They spoke frequently and Sara had made visiting the little girl a priority, taking her to the park or for an ice cream cone. It had been something that she had needed when she was younger and although she would never forget the social worker who was kind enough to hold her hand as long as she needed, the woman had never come back to see her in anything more than a professional manner. And that had always bothered Sara as a child. As an adult, she understood why it was so difficult -- so many kids in the system, so many kids assigned to one social worker, and only so many hours in the day, and days in the week.

So, she took it upon herself to be that person for Morgan. She'd helped Mary and Harold, Maggie's parents, find a vacation rental home so they could have a semblance of a life while they waited for Maggie's trial to begin. Because it had to take place in Nevada, given that it is where the crime occured, and Maggie was unable to leave the state, but her parents lived in Sioux Falls and had been granted temporary custody of her daughter, Sara had fought for the case to be fast-tracked. And she'd won.

Each of the three CSIs had their part in testifying. Warrick, although the lead on the case, and Nick had basically taken a backseat to the proceedings given how Sara had forged a bond with both Maggie and Morgan. Sara's testimony was solid as she explained to the court what the evidence meant, and how as CSIs, they'd interpreted it. Laura Kent, the officer who'd transported Maggie back to Las Vegas, had become a character witness and testified that she whole heartedly believe Maggie's confession about her husbands abuse.

Sara had sat between Nick and Warrick as the case was presented. The case was pretty much a slam dunk and everyone knew it, but she was still grateful when she felt Nick's hand grasp hers, as their fingers entwined themselves.

Silent tears rolled down Sara's face as the judge announced his decision. Even though Maggie had been abused, by her own admission at the time of the attack, her husband had not been presenting a physical threat to her. She had grabbed a knife on her own volition, and went to him. The judge was able to recognize the fact that he'd locked their daughter in a dark room with no way out, and that he decided she's been acting in the defense of her defenseless child. Her psychiatric evaluation had come back and while they felt that she needed therapy to help her cope with her actions, and the abuse that she'd dealt with for years, the doctors didn't feel it would be dangerous to allow Maggie access to her daughter. So, the two reunited. Though Maggie hadn't been granted bail, she was given one day pass a week and an officer to escort her and her daughter to a movie or the play ground. Her 'punishment' was court ordered therapy for the next year. During which time she needed to live with her parents, who readily complied. After that, she'd have two years probation. But she didn't receive jail time and the State of Nevada had transfered the status of her case to the department in Sioux Falls so that her parents could resume their lives, and perhaps she and Morgan could start over with a clean slate.

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"You guys comin'?" Warrick questioned as he slammed his locker door shut. Although they'd just left Maggie and her family at the court house, they still had to work Grave that night. At least the court house appearance had been overtime . . .

"Yeah, we'll be there in a minute," Nick nodded. Sara glanced at Nick curiously as she reattached her CSI badge to her belt.

"Don't make me send Greg in here after you two," Warrick teased, and broke out into a full smile when Sara had failed at containing the smile and blush that swept across her features.

Nick rolled his eyes and chuckled at just how obvious Warrick had become. He and Catherine both. Not that he minded his friends trying to get him and Sara to take the final plunge off the tight rope that they'd been walking for so long. Since they'd come back from Pioche, Warrick and Catherine had invited the two of them out several times after shift and even before. For breakfast or dinner. Drinks at a club on their night off, followed by dancing . . . it was obvious that it was about more than two involved co-workers asking their co-worker, and friends, out. If it had been that simple, Gris and Greg would've been asked along too. Even Sophia and Brass on occasion.

Nick waited until Warrick was out of the room, the door shut tightly behind him. "Are you OK?"

"Thank you," Sara spoke softly, as if she hadn't heard him ask how she was doing.

Nick's eyebrows creased together as he unconciously reached up and tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear. "For what?"

She felt the warmth of the palm of his hand against her cheek. As he was dropping his hand down from his side, she grabbed it in her own hand. "For this. For everything. You've just been there for me. Understood what I needed to do and didn't question it."

"You don't need to thank me for that, Sara," he smiled softly. "I know you'd have done the same for me."

"You don't understand," she looked away from him, still speaking softly. She glanced up and saw him waiting for her to continue when she was ready. "Everytime I could feel myself slipping back into _that_ night," she blinked away the tears, pictures of her own fathers bloodied body with her mother standing over him, invading her mind, "somehow, you were just there. And you kept me from loosing it. And I know that I never asked you to not say anything to anyone about it, but-"

"It's not up to me to tell them, Sar," he interrupted her, placing his index finger on her lips, sufficiently stopping her. "If you want to tell them, I'm sure they'd understand. But you told me. And I'm not going to make you regret that decision."

"Thank you." She was only intent on telling him that she was grateful that he'd kept her admission confidential, but apparently he knew her well enough to know that. On impulse, much like his tucking her hair behind her ear, she steadied herself on his shoulders before reaching up slightly and placing a soft, warm kiss on his cheek, at the edge of his mouth. She allowed her lips to linger for a few seconds longer than they needed to before she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his, in a hug. "I really don't know what I'd do without you."

Nick was now fighting back the tears as he pressed a kiss to her hair, not letting her out of their hug. He smiled into the emptied room. "I don't know what I'd do without you, either."

"Nick, Sara," Grissom's voice boomed as he entered the locker room. The door hit the wall with force, the noise causing them to jump apart quickly. The rest of the team filed in quickly and quietly behind him. Grissom looked at them pointedly then glanced up at the clock on the wall, giving them the 'you're late' look. "Brass and Sophia called. 419 in the park. We're all working it. Get your gear."

"All of us?" Sara asked Catherine quietly when the strawberry blond opened her locker which was located next to Sara's. A single 419 hardly needed 6 of the best CSIs on the case.

"It's the Mayors niece," Catherine informed her. Nick, who'd heard, let out a low whistle.

"Brass said that the Mayor demanded 'the best damn team the country had to offer,' and he gave us a high recommendation," Warrick said, joining in the conversation.

"Of course it doesn't hurt that we're local and the second best lab in the country, trailing the first lab by only a few additional solved cases a year," Greg piped up, throwing his jacket on.

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Sara stood near the body and silently cursed the past couple of months. Her mother had died, she'd dealt with a case that hit too close to home, and she was already emotionally exhausted. And here she was, feeling a sick sense of deja vu. She raised her camera up and took some photos.

The lifeless brown eyes of a brown haired woman stared back at her. Her pale skin was glowing in the early November moonlight, her skin puckering at the coolness of the air.

Sara heard Catherine directing David over to the body and since he was now there, they could take a closer look at her before David took her to the coroners office.

Catherine sighed and looked up at Sara, who quickly adverted her eyes, knowing the words that were about to leave Catherine's lips. "She was raped, wasn't she?"

She nodded her head. "It appears so. Her underwear is missing."

"Brass and Sophia talked to the family," Nick sighed as he and Greg approached them at the body. He nodded over at the Mayor and his family. "Her name is Vanessa White. Nineteen years old, straight A student. She's been living here in Las Vegas with the her aunt and uncle since the new semester started. The house is just a couple of blocks over," Nick nodded to the north, in the direction of the house. "She's a science major at UNLV, and was minoring in Communications."

"So the question is," Catherine started, "why would a smart girl from a good family be cutting through the park after dark?"

"Movie ticket," David said, handing Greg the stub.

"Silver City," Greg commented, placing the stub into a bindle as evidence. "The theater is just a few blocks over there," he pointed to the south. "Logistically, getting home would've been faster if she cut through the park."

"Or, maybe she had a date?" Catherine said. "Perhaps they were walking to the house, and decided 'it's a nice night, lets go for a stroll through the park.' Could explain how she ended up here."

"Assuming she was as honest with her family as they said she was, she went on her own, needed some time to herself to clear her head," Greg offered up.

Sara glanced up at the street lamps that littered the sides of the walk way only twenty feet away from them. "She was drug over here." She shone her flash light on the drag marks in the dirt. It appeared that she was facing forward, her back to the attacker. "She was fighting her attacker. Looks like he was hiding in the bushes, waiting for her . . . for anyone," she shrugged, not entirely sure that it hadn't been random, though it couldn't be ruled out. She closed her eyes tightly. "Vanessa probably thought it was safe, even though it was dark. The security of the street lamps, combined with a mostly safe neighborhood . . . probably just a short cut from the theater back home."

"Who found her?" Grissom asked as he and Warrick joined them, Brass and Sofia not far behind. The four of them had finished interviewing the few people that they'd found in the park, and a few people who'd come out of curiosity to see what all the commotion was.

"Mrs. Fisher," Nick answered.

"The Mayor's wife?" Warrick asked, shocked.

"She was taking the family Doberman for a quick walk. Apparenly the dog didn't want to stay on the path. Must've picked up Vanessa's scent," Nick answered. He pointed to the foot and paw prints near the drag marks that Sara had pointed out. They were directly to the side of the marks, not in them. The evidence was preserved due to some random act of God, or a high power . . . "Mrs. Fisher said that when she saw her body, she pulled the dog back to her. She called 911, but she knew it was already too late, so that's why she didn't touch the body, or try to revive her."

"Liver temperature suggests she's been dead for approximately two hours," David jumped in. "Rigor hasn't set in yet." He started to pull out the contents of her jacket pocket as Catherine rifled through her purse.

"Wallet is here," she mumbled. "Cash inside. Rules out robbery."

David handed Grissom a chain and the older CSI examined it carefully under his flashlight. "Clasp isn't broken, so why wasn't she wearing it?" He raised an eyebrow at the rest of his team as the necklace dangled on his index finger.

"Sara?" Catherine asked, concerned. The blood had drained away from the normally pale womans face, making her seem ghostly.

Sara reached out to take the jewelry from Grissom, she shone her flash light on the item and gasped. Silver chain with a flat circular shape dangling down. The number 7 etched into the metal.

"What is it?" Warrick was the first to ask.

"This isn't the first victim," she whispered. "He's a serial."

"Those look like pretty ordinary items, Sara," Greg stated. "I can think of a number of girls that I've seen wearing those necklaces. And seven is considered a lucky number, so it's not completely random . . . We shouldn't be jumping to conclusions yet."

Nick gave him a sideways glare and pushed Greg to the side, taking his place. He was vaguely aware of David and his assistant gathering up Vanessa's body on the stretcher and taking her away. The CSIs could hear the faint sobbing of the Fisher family as they watched her body being wheeled to the coroners van.

"You sure?"

"I'm positive that the DNA we will recover from her body will match at least five other cases. Two from Boston, and three from San Francisco." She looked in Nick's eyes and he could see the fear in them. There was no doubt that she wasn't grasping at straws. And if it turned out that she was wrong, perhaps there was a copy cat on the loose . . .

TBC . . . .


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the replies, everyone. Again, I own nothing!

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"DNA matches the other cases," Grissom sighed as he walked into the break room which had become their unofficial meeting area.

Catherine held her head in her hands as she examined one of the folders in front of her. There were at least ten folders, all full of information from the two known Boston cases. She shook her head. "How the hell can this guy be so damned smart?"

Given the DNA profile, the man was between the ages of 30 and 35.

"He was young when this started," Warrick spoke. "No more than 20. Must've been some sort of rush. Raping and killing innocent women." He dropped the file down onto the table and rubbed his eyes. "_Freak_."

Greg poured himself a cup of his coffee. He'd made a large pot for them, knowing it was going to be a long night. "If it's such a turn on, why wouldn't he just keep doing it? Why lay low for eight years or so before striking again?"

Nick entered the room. "Archie is looking at the tapes from the parks camera in the parking lot. If we're lucky, we might catch a glimpse of him."

"That would be a miracle," Sara muttered, entering the room. "The guy is smart. He's hasn't slipped up. Not once. We don't have anything on this guy. He could be anyone."

"What'dya got?" Warrick asked, pushing aside some of the folders on the table, making room for a large stack that Sara held in her hands.

"Everything from San Fran," she dropped the folders on the table with a resounding thud.

COD on the victims varied. Some had their throats slashed, some had their necks broken . . . some were choked . . . the end result was always the same though. Death.

"Sara?" Greg asked, his mug positioned over his mouth. He peered at her from over the rim of the cup.

"Yeah?" she asked, taking a seat beside him, pulling open one of the discarded Boston files, scanning the information that she knew by heart.

Nick sat down on the other side of her and handed her a mug of coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar. He took a sip of his own coffee and grabbed one of the files on the table, opening it up.

"How did you know? I mean, that this wasn't the first . . . "

"A gut feeling," she shrugged. Catherine looked at her with one eyebrow raised. She sighed, knowing that everyone knew that wasn't the truth. If it were a hunch, she couldn't have known about it matching two known cases in Boston, nor would she have known about the three cases in San Francisco. "About a year before I came here, I was a level 2 at the lab in San Francisco. I was working the cases. We made the connection to the two women in Boston. There was nothing to go on, so we were forced to close the case because it was inactive."

"It says that this woman had a necklace identical to the one that Vanessa White was wearing, only she was the third victim," Nick said, looking at the Boston file.

"And this woman," Greg said, glancing at the open file in front of him, "had a necklace indicating she was number 2."

"Four, Five and Six are accounted for in California," Sara sighed. "Vanessa White is number 7."

"Where's number one?" Brass asked as he walked into the room. He and Sophia had stayed with the family trying to find out about any enemies that they may have had that wanted to hurt them. But Grissom had called and informed them that they indeed had a serial on the loose and it was unlikely that Vanessa's relationship with the Mayor had anything to do with her attack.

Sara glanced up and found all eyes on her. "Never found."

"It doesn't seem likely that he'd have let her get away," Nick sighed. "And all the attacks happened in safe neighborhoods, in large cities, with at least moderate activity."

"Thrill of getting caught," Grissom pondered out loud. "Maybe he was interrupted and couldn't finish the job."

"Then why wasn't it reported?" Greg asked.

"Maybe she was ashamed," Catherine's voice was quiet, remembering back a few short months when she had feared that she'd been roofied and raped.

_'Sloppy police work'_, Sara thought to herself, as a possibility.

"Maybe he hadn't meant to kill," Sophia interjected. "Perhaps all he wanted to do was rape women. The first one may have been compliant for fear of being hurt further. Didn't report it, for whatever reason. But the second one . . . maybe she fought back harder. And he was scared of getting caught. Perhaps killing her was an accident. But a thrilling one. Maybe he found a new high. One that only raping women couldn't create."

"Rape is the foreplay, murder is the climax," Grissom said. Yeah, he'd said that about a number of rape and murder cases in the past as well.

"So what do we know?" Brass asked.

"The second and third attacks in Boston happened three days apart. He disappeared, then resurfaced in California eight years later. The number Four and Five attacks happened four days apart. The Sixth happened three days after the fifth. We thought that maybe the first victim happened four days prior to the second." Sara sighed, swallowing the emotions that had begun to surface. She cursed herself silently. "If that is the case, and he works on a time line -"

"Then we've only got four days before he strikes again," Grissom normally calm voice sounded rattled. If there was anything that could shake him, it was a criminal who could outsmart even the best of the best. They only had semen, and some skin scrapings from underneath the victims finger nails. It all matched the other cases, but still, there was no way of identifying the male as he wasn't in the system. No new evidence had been found that might help in aiding their search. No blood and no finger prints.

"Anything else?" Sophia asked, picking up one of the unattended files and glancing over the notes. "Similarities between vics?"

"All were between the ages of 18 and 20," Catherine answered.

"All were Science majors. The first two known victims were from Harvard, attending the school in 1991, sixteen years ago. The other three were attending USF in '99," Sara offered. She didn't even have to look at the files. She wouldn't never forget this case. She just . . . couldn't. And it wasn't for a lack of trying.

Nick looked up at Sara. He knew something was bothering her. And even though he didn't know exactly what it was, it was bothering him too. That, and something else. "They also all had long brown hair, brown eyes, and fair skin." When she glanced back at him, he saw the features that the victims all had in common. His heart leapt to his throat.

"Science Majors, huh?" Archie asked from the doorway. He noticed that he had everyones attention. "The perp is in his early to mid thirties, right?" The group nodded their heads. "And he has a thing for young university students studying Science. Did they have anything else in common?"

"No," Sara said. "They didn't know each other or have friends in common. Other than that, they all lived in dorms, but they weren't in buildings near one another. I know what you're thinking, Archie, but we tried that angle in San Francisco. We got the all the tapes from USF for the month leading up to the murders, and no one really looked out of place. No one that shouldn't have been there. No one looked suspicious. And if they were a little older, they only appeared once in the footage. And we couldn't locate them afterwards."

"What about the tapes from Harvard?" he asked.

"Nope," Sara said, pushing the chair back and standing up. "The Boston lab never thought to check the tapes. And by the time we called Harvard, requesting them, they were gone. Took up too much space, so they'd been destroyed."

Grissom looked irritable. "Did the lab in San Francisco ask for the tapes anyway? To try and put them back together?"

Sara rolled her eyes and tried to keep her flaring emotions in check. _Gee, why didn't we think of that?_ she thought bitterly. "The tapes were burned. Nothing but a pile of ashes."

"So, maybe if the perp only went to the Universities once, he found all his victims at that time. Maybe he followed them, watched them for a while, got their patterns and routines down . . . knew when and where to strike," Warrick offered.

Sara rubbed her temples. "Well, _that's_ a comforting thought . . . . but there is a problem with that theory. Vanessa White didn't live in a dorm."

The room went silent.

"If he's straying from what he knows," Brass spoke, "then maybe he's about to slip up."

"It's only a matter of time," Catherine agreed.

"Excuse me," Sara said softly, quickly exitting the room.

Catherine stood up, ready to go after her collegue. They all knew how Sara reacted to rape cases. It was never easy for any of them, but she always took it especially hard.

"I'll go," Nick said softly, standing up from his own chair. He gave Cath a half hearted smile.

"You sure?" Sophia asked. She thought for sure if anyone should go after Sara, it would be her or Catherine.

Nick nodded in response and was out of the room immediately after that.

"Archie," Grissom addressed the A/V tech, "I'm going to have the UNLV security tapes sent to your lab. I want you to go over every single frame with no exceptions. I'm going to have the tapes from USF messengered over. I want to compare the people on both tapes. If there is even a hint that one of the people might be the same, we might have our guy."

Archie nodded his head and quickly left to go back to his lab, intent on going over the parking lot security tapes until the UNLV tapes arrived.

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

He walked through the lab halls, looking into all the rooms. But he couldn't find her. He poked his head into the locker room, but she wasn't there. He knocked softly on the door to the shower room, calling out that he was coming in. When he entered, the room was empty. Sighing, he walked back out into the locker room, and then into the hall and straight into David.

"Sorry, Super Dave," Nick apologized.

"No problem," the shy man said, continuing on his way down the hall in the opposite direction of Nick.

"Hey Super Dave?" Nick said, turning around. When David turned around, he continued, "have you seen Sara?"

"Sorry," he frowned a little. "The case getting to her?"

"I think so," he nodded. "If you see her, tell her I'm looking for her?"

"Sure," the man nodded. "Tell her to hang in there for me, will ya?"

Nick smiled. "Will do." 

Again, he continued on his search, but was coming up empty. "Where are you?" he muttered.

"If you keep muttering to yourself, it could turn into a real problem," Hodges smirked. Nick looked at him, rather annoyed. David sighed, "if you're looking for Sara, she went up there," he nodded to the stairs that lead to the roof of the Crime Lab. People rarely went up there, but a few people had been known to do it on occasion when they needed quiet and a place where they were unlikely to be found.

"Thanks," he said earnestly.

"Hey Nick," Hodges called him when he was about to start climbing the stairs. "She looked pretty upset."

"Thanks for the heads up," he smiled at Hodges. Yeah, he could be a pretty decent guy at times.

TBC . . .


	10. Chapter 10

Nick stood there silently for a while, observing her from behind. He'd gone up to the roof, and she was there, just like Hodges said she'd be. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself as she stood at the edge of the roof, looking out at the bright lights of the Strip.

He just allowed her a few moments to herself, knowing that's what she needed. But he also knew that she needed to talk about whatever it was that was weighing her down. He believed that she would deny there was something bothering her as that is what she always did in the cases of rape. And he believed that she'd deny it again even though she'd given him some glimpses into her horrifying past recently.

Whenever she got emotionally involved, he became immediately concerned for her. True, whenever anyone on their team became emotionally involved he became concerned, but it was different with her. He felt the need to protect her. Take her in his arms and never let go. Many times before, just like now, he'd watch her from afar without her knowledge, just to make sure that she wasn't going to do anything crazy that she'd regret later.

"Hey," she said softly, not bothering to turn around.

A smile spread across his lips and he had to surpress a chuckle. Now was not the time to laugh. "Hey," he countered back, just as softly. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I always know when your near," she answered. "You might think you're being subtle, but I know this isn't the first time you've watched me."

A faint blush swept across his cheeks, but he knew that she hadn't seen it as she still hadn't turned around. Even if she had, there was a large amount of space between them, and it was nearly dark on the roof. Plus he could always blame the coolness of the November air. "I didn't know you knew . . . I'm sorry, I know that you value your privacy, but-"

"You're worried," she stopped him. She smiled. "It's kinda nice. Knowing that you care."

"I've always cared, Sar. And I always will," he tentatively started towards her, slowly closing the distance. Once he was at her side, he placed a hand at the small of her back. She turned towards him, and he saw large tears rolling down her cheeks. "Hey, hey," he said quickly, bringing his free hand up to her face to wipe away the offending drops. "It's OK."

"I want to believe you, Nick," she said, leaning into his hand that was wiping the tears away, "but I can't let myself believe something when I know it'll never be OK."

"Sara," he started tentatively, "I know these cases have always been hard for you, but if anyone can catch this guy, it's us." She forced a smile. "That always make you feel better. And then that big smile sweeps across your face. You can light up a room with that smile, you know."

"Do you know why I left San Francisco?"

He inhaled deeply. "Because of Grissom," he stated, but it was more of a question.

"No," she shook her head vehemently. "He only gave me what I needed to leave. He gave me the security of another job to go to. But I wouldn't have left if . . ."

"If what?" he asked after a long pause.

"If I hadn't been involved in this case," she admitted quietly. "When we initially made the connection to those girls in Boston," she swallowed, "my first thought was to run, Nick. And I would have. But_ I _wanted justice. And when we'd closed the case without so much as a suspect, I felt like the walls were closing in. And I feel like that is going to happen again," she sobbed. He pulled her close. "I can feel the urge to run again."

Nick felt his throat restricting. "Please don't," he said quietly.

"I don't want too, Nick," she remained in her position, her body against his in his embrace, but she looked up. "I don't want to leave you." Her admission was so quiet that he almost hadn't heard. He was processing her words and she felt vulnerable to have said such a thing. She wasn't the type to wear her heart on her sleeve and the silence was deafening. She felt like his silence was rejection, so she quickly ammended, "I don't want to leave any of you. You guys are the closest thing to a family that I've ever had."

Nick nodded, a tear slipping down his own cheek. He was about to lean down and kiss her until she continued with admitting that she didn't want to leave the team because they were her family. So, he held her a little tighter, his heart aching. "Promise me that if you feel like running, you'll come to me."

She knew she shouldn't make that promise as it was not a promise that she felt she could keep. And the last person in the world she wanted to lie to was craddling her in his arms, making her feel safe and protected from the world. But she looked away from his eyes that were buring into her soul. She placed her ear over his heart, and held him a little tighter. "I promise," she heard herself mumble.

After a few minutes of silently holding each other, staring out at the neon lights of the Strip, he broke the silence. "Why did you feel like running when you made the connection to the girls in Boston." She suddenly stepped out of his embrace, the cool air hitting them both at the sudden loss of contact. She turned away from him. "Talk to me, Sara," he pleaded.

She heard the desperation in his voice. Once again, the tears started to flow. But this time, she couldn't mask the fact that she was crying by not looking at him. Her soft sobs betrayed her. Nick quickly stepped in front of her and craddled her face in his hands.

"Sara, you have to talk to someone about this," he said. "It's eating you alive. I can already tell and this case just started."

She sighed, knowing that he was right. "It's like this case is following me." She could see the confusion etched in his features, and continued. "When this guy started, I was at Harvard."

"Oh, Sara," he said quietly, pulling her into another hug. "It could have been you. Thank God it wasn't." He felt relieved. She fit the physical profile, and would've been in the target age range.

"I think it was me," she said softly. "I think I was the first."

Nick felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. "You? But . . . "

"Why didn't I report it?" she asked him. He nodded his head, needing to know. "I did. But there is no record of it."

"I don't understand," Nick said quietly.

"Neither do I," she laughed bitterly, before breaking eye contact with him. She studied the shirt that he was wearing, nestled beneath her finger tips. He removed himself from their hug and took her hand in his. He slowly lead them over to a bench, waiting for her to sit down before he did the same.

"It was January. And it was extremely cold. But I didn't care. I had finished everything that I could for my classes and had some most of the day off. I decided to go see a movie in the afternoon. It was pretty bad, so I left early and decided that I'd take a walk in the park near the campus. The sun was shining for the first time in weeks. I sat down on the bench that was in front of a beautiful fountain. I loved it the moment that I saw it. Sometimes I'd take my books there when the weather was warmer so I could study. The sound of the water has always been calming. Strangely, it still is."

Sara had stopped and Nick noticed a far away look in her eyes. Her hand was nestled in his, so he squeezed it gently for support. She seemed to snap out of her daze as she instantly took a deep breath.

"I don't know how long I'd been there, but I remember thinking that I needed to go because it was almost sunset. The temperature was getting colder. But the forecast was saying that the sun wouldn't be making another appearance for a while. So, I decided that I'd just enjoy it for a few more minutes. After that, everything kind of jumbles together. Someone grabbed me from behind and was dragging me into the bushes. I was fighting as best I could, but," she shook her head trying to rid herself of the images that were starting to flood her memory, "I couldn't. He was too big. No one tells you how to get away from someone who is obviously bigger and stronger when they get to you from behind. I remember he was wearing a ski mask, and he had a knife. The sunlight caught the blade. It was sharp. He pressed it against my neck and whispered something in my ear. I don't know what exactly that was. I couldn't concentrate. I remembering thinking that he was going to kill me. I could feel him on me, hurting me. The ground was cold because of the snow and ice. But I focused on the sound of the water from the fountain. Then, I remember hearing the zipper on his pants and he told me not to say a thing or he'd kill me and them. I saw a couple of teenagers near the fountain and I think I nodded my head to say that I wouldn't say a word. Then he was gone. I stayed there until the girls left because I didn't want them to get hurt."

She broke down sobbing and Nick pulled her fully against his chest, allowing her head to rest against his heart. The steady, but fast, beat was soothing to her as he stroked her hair, placing kisses on the top of her head.

"After they left the fountain, I somehow managed to get to the hospital that was a couple of blocks away. I remember the nurse who saw me. She was kind and I didn't want her to leave me. She had processed rape victims before," her voice suddenly changed. Nick noticed and was concerned because now she was disassosiating herself from the experience. "She gave me scrubs to change into because she knew that the CSIs there would need my clothes. She was with me through everything. From the time I came in, to the time I left. The only time she was told that she had to leave was when I was giving my statement to the officer. The CSIs were apparently backed up, so a member of the Boston PD would have to take my clothes and the SART findings to the lab, as well as take my statement. I didn't think much of it. He told me that someone would be contacting me to give me an update, or to ask any further questions that they might have had. He didn't even give me his card . . . "

Nick knew that this was probably a small detail in a horrible nightmare that had plagued her. From his dealings with LVPD and other officers from different jurisdictions, he knew that an officer was required to leave his details with anyone that he came in contact with in a professional capacity. And a victim of such a brutal crime was no exception.

"I went back to my dorm and locked myself in there for three days. I didn't even go to class. I called PD to get an update since no one had called. I was always put on hold, and eventually, the line would just go dead. I got so pissed off that I finally went to the station. I couldn't go beyond reception because from what the woman told me, there was no report ever filed. I knew the officers name -- Alexander Danes. But since I didn't have his card, it was of little value. I was so angry that I guess I made a scene because the Captain came out to see what the 'ruckus' was. He ushered me into the station where the police desks were. We sat down and somehow, he managed to access my personal information. Knew that my mom had killed my father, that she had a mental breakdown, that my brother had died of an overdose, that I was a Foster kid . . . . he told me that I was a screwed up kid looking for a little attention. That Officer Danes was an upstanding member of the department and I was trying to bring him down. Apparently the week before, he had received a medal of bravery or something for saving a woman from a burning building. The local papers and news outlets had been all over the story and his name was everywhere. He said that if I had a card from Officer Danes, he might take me as a more credible victim, but I didn't have that. All he could offer me was a new SART exam, but he said that the physical evidence that could help identify whom ever had done it to me, if anyone at all, was gone. At best, all they'd have was proof that it had or hadn't happened."

Nick sniffed back a few of the tears that he was now shedding. "What about the release forms from the hospital?" Every single CSI or PD member needed to sign a release form when taking anything pertaining to any case - new or old.

"Conviently, there was no record," Sara smirked. "I hoped that maybe it hadn't been checked out, so when I saw the nurse that had been with me, I asked her. She remembered me and checked, but everything was gone. She hadn't been the one to release it to the officer, and with so many nurses at a busy hospital -- it would be impossible to find out who had signed it out." Suddenly, she stood up and ran both her hands through her hair.

Nick stood up. "I'm so sorry Sara," he was very quiet. He reached out to touch her, but she flinched when his hand made contact with her back. Suddenly, he realized that with the memories that were haunting her and the fact that her attacker had come from behind, it hadn't been the smartest thing. "I'm sorry," he apologized again.

"I hate telling women that it isn't about sex, that it's about violence. I hate it because I _know_ that it doesn't matter what its about. The fact is, it happened. And you feel . . . _I felt _- dirty." Sara looked into his eyes and knew that he knew what she meant. His own ordeal had been a sexual assault

"But you're not," even though his voice wavered with emotion, she knew that he meant it. But it had been the thought that she was dirty that had lead her into so many bad relationships. It had been the fact that she had been a victim without closure that had made her into the workaholic that she was. "You're beautiful," he said a little more softly. "You didn't deserve to have that happen to you. No one does." He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "You're safe now, Sara. I will not let anything like that ever happen to you again."

"I know I don't have proof," she continued, "that this is the same guy who is raping and murdering these women, but it fits. Harvard. Science Major. Brown hair. Brown Eyes. Age. 1991. And if he really does work on a timeline like we think . . . I was attacked four days before the second victim."

"We're going to get him," he said confidently. "If it's the last thing I do, we will get him." He pulled her into his arms again. "I know that this is going to be hard for you, but you need to tell them."

"No, Nick," she said forcefully, pushing him away. "I can't."

"Sara, it could help the investigation. You should at least tell Grissom," he said.

"Please, Nick, don't say anything. I don't know anything in this case that could help. He wore a ski mask like he did with the others. We found the fibres on those victims. But I didn't see his face, and I don't have any physical evidence that links him to me. And if I told Grissom, I know he'd take me off the case. I _need_ to do this."

"Sara, I think you need to tell him -"

"I told _you_, Nick," she said, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

He sighed, knowing that this was something she had to do. "Alright, Sara," he conceded, "but just know that I'm going to be watching over you. If you let this over take your life to the point where it isn't healthy, I will pull you back. Make sure you eat and sleep."

"Thank you," she smiled softly, allowing him to pull her back into his embrace.

He kissed the top of her head as he craddled her in his arms again. He silently cursed everyone who'd ever caused the beautiful woman in his arms pain. He felt her shiver against him. "Cold?"

"A little," she admitted, though she wasn't complaining if it meant standing there, alone with Nick. He was the first person that had truly made her feel safe.

"We should go inside before you get sick," he commented, upset with himself for having not grabbed a jacket to offer her. She was standing out in the cool night air in a T-shirt. He'd have offered his own jacket as warmth, but he hadn't been wearing one either.

"Just a few more minutes," she quietly pleaded, holding him a little tighter.

"I do anything for you, Sara," he dropped another kiss on her forehead. "_Anything_." He held her close to his body, his arms running up and down her arms and back in a feeble attempt to warm her.

She smiled into his chest. "I'd do anything for you, too, Nicky."


	11. Chapter 11

Just like Sara had predicted, the guy left little evidence to go on. No leads had presented themselves and it was wearing the team down. A case like this would've had them all pulling doubles and triples, but there was no evidence, there for, no leads to follow, or objects and samples to analyze.

"Damn it!" Warrick cursed as he kicked at the dirt in the park four nights after Vanessa White had been found. The next victim, #8, was lying in the morning light. She had also been raped and murdered.

Everyone had sat at CSI head quarters earlier that night waiting with baited breath for the call to come in, knowing that since it had been four days since Vanessa had been found, and despite having warned the public that there was a serial rapist and murderer on the loose, they knew that another victim would be found.

But the call hadn't come in until nearly 8am.

This time, the body was left near a childs play area. A young family had taken their twin sons to the park and just like one child, two had not been an exception. Both kept running, keeping their parents incredibly occupied. When the mother had chased her son into the trees near the garbage cans, she'd found the body and screamed loudly. Her husband had rushed over and quickly dialed 911, as had people who lived in the houses near the park who'd heard the blood curdling scream.

Nick had seen the way Sara looked at the young womans body and had immediately offered that they take the perimeter, wanting to get her as far away from the victim as possible. Like he'd promised her, he had been keeping his eye on her and though she was deeply invested in the case, as they all were, he was concerned. As much as he'd wanted to find the culprit, they had little evidence to go on. That didn't mean that he would ever stop looking, the desire to make the man who'd hurt her so badly pay, but it was taking a long time. Not that four days was a long time. Sometimes it took weeks. But given her 'involvement' for a lack of a better word, it couldn't be over fast enough.

He'd noticed that she ate only when she had to and she was surviving on coffee and occasional naps on the break room couch. He hadn't left her alone after they clocked out after shift either. He either went with her to her place, or took her to his - worried about what she might do if she were alone. He supposed it wasn't much different than what she was doing when they were together. She had made copies of the files to study when she wasn't working, and from time to time, he saw her making charts and diagrams trying to find a common link between the victims beyond their education majors, physical attributes and locations. At times, he'd fought her to take the files away, locking them away in his wall safe so she couldn't get to them. He knew she needed to sleep and with those files sitting freely around, he knew she wouldn't even try. Not that lying awake in bed was any better, but at least she could rest her eyes and maybe in her exhaustion, sleep would claim her. The times that it did, she would wake up in a cold sweat, or would be thrashing around. He would comfort her as best he could, like she had with him after he'd been freed from the plexiglass box he considered to be his coffin.

In the four days that they'd been spending all their time together, he realized that if he continued to wake her up from her nightmares, she would fight off sleep. But a soothing voice and whispers of "shh, it's OK, I'm here, you're safe," and a gentle hand on her arm, would slowly calm her down and she would fall out of the nightmare and into a restful slumber.

Grissom poured through the womans purse and once again ruled out robbery as a possibility. Her cash and credit cards were still in the wallet, as well as a student ID card from UNLV. He continued searching through the purses contents and found Student Union fees as well as receipts from the UNLV book store where she'd purchased used copies of Science text books.

"Looks like it was a body dump," Greg said, approaching Nick and Sara who were still scouring the earth for any sign that the attacker could have been there. But with a public park, it was a nearly impossible job. "Catherine is thinking that since we released the info to the public, women became more dilegent about parks near dusk and during the night. Looks like she worked at a convient store about a mile from here," he continued.

Grissom had given Warrick the girls name and he'd called the lab, intent on getting any and all information possible. Quickly, they'd learned that the victim drove a blue '98 Civic. Catherine had spotted one sitting the parking lot of a middle school just across the road, near the back of the lot. When they'd received confirmation that it was the victims car, she and Greg had processed it. The ALS light had shown sexual activity in the back seat, possible from the rape. And a pay stub had been found in the console with the address of her work place. Dirt was also smudged between the front and passenger side seats on the side. The floor in the backseat held some specs as well.

"Warrick called the store, and apparently she had been working last night. Shift started at four, and ended at ten," he sighed. "Apparently they aren't allowed to park in the lot because the spaces are only for customers, so employees have to park elsewhere. There is a lot directly next to the store that is abandon, so most of the employees have started parking there. But there are no street lamps or cameras."

"I'm going to check it out," Sara said, removing her gloves.

Nick held Greg's attention and nodded his head in Sara's direction, indicating he'd go with her.

"We're heading back to the lab in a few minutes," Greg stated. "Catherine already took some of the samples from the backseat in to have Mia analyze them, and Doc has apparently received the body and is starting the autopsy. Should have a post mortem SAE kit to Mia soon, too."

Quickly, the CSIs finished packing their kits back up and headed towards where the rest of the team had assembled, the young girls body long since having been removed. They motioned toward the silver Denali that they'd arrived in signalling that they were on their way out.

Upon arriving at the store, Sara and Nick spoke to the young woman behind the counter. She'd just taken over for another young woman who'd worked through the night. The girl before her had been there victim.

"Such a nice girl," Marilyn said quietly, sad that her co-worker had succumbed to such a horrible fate. "Heard about the guy being on the loose too. We've all been watching one anothers backs as best we can. Sometimes though, we just have to take our chances and hope for the best."

"What do you mean?" Sara asked.

"Mr. Parker didn't believe in letting his employees park in the parking lot," she motioned to the cement grounds outside of the convient store that was well lit up in the morning light. "At night, it's not so scary because we can see all around us. But he still wouldn't let anyone of us park in the lot after dark. We continually asked him. One of the girls who worked here thought it was a stupid rule. Mr. Parker is never here after four in the afternoon anyway, so she decided to move her car into the lit area. Well, that day he came back, saw her car and fired her on the spot. Said she didn't listen to his request. Insubordination or something. Maybe it saved her life. She was supposed to be the one working last night, not Mary."

Mary Bishop. The eighth victim.

The girl looked up at the photos that lined the wall above the cash register. Mary Bishop's photo was prominently hanging there the worlds "Employee of the Month" etched into a plaque. "This here," Marilyn continued, "is Annie. The one who was fired. She's pretty shaken up. She's room mates with my best friend at UNLV." Annie was a red head. Doubtful that she would've been a victim.

"Have you seen anyone hanging around here the past few days?" Nick asked. "Anyone at all?"

"Loitering isn't permitted," Marilyn said quietly.

"I'm not going to tell Mr. Parker," he said. The girl didn't look completely convinced. "Marilyn, if you saw anyone, anyone at all, it might help us find whoever it is that did this to Mary. And to the other girls."

The girl sighed. "There was this guy," she said. "Mary and I had been working together. After she left, he was gone. But while he was here, I saw him at the payphone. It didn't really look like he was talking to anyone. Just kinda held it up to his ear." She shrugged. "I saw him looking inside a few times, but that isn't exactly uncommon. He was here the entire time that Mary was, though."

"Are there any cameras outside?" Sara asked.

"No," she shook her blond curls. "We only have cameras inside," she pointed to a number of black orbs on the ceiling. "We watch them from the monitors here," she motioned to the small TV on the counter. "They are recorded though. Fancy little DVR system or something," she shrugged. "Mr. Parker always had the latest in security 'cause he didn't like feeling like his business wasn't safe," she rolled her eyes and her voice took on a bitter tone. "So what if you're workers aren't safe?" she tacked on.

"We're going to need to see those tapes," Nick nodded his head, understanding why the girl was upset. She'd lost a co-worker to a brutal crime and it very well could've been prevented had the owner of the store allowed the clerks to park their personal vehicles in a well lit area.

"Mr. Parker won't let you take them without a warrant," the girl answered. Sara sighed, and Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. Valuable time was being wasted. "But that prick isn't here, now is he?" she smiled sweetly, pulling out a key to the office.

"What've you found?" Nick asked as he and Sara entered the break room, each grabbing a quick cup of coffee and a donut from the box on the table.

"Her car was broken into. The lock on the drivers door was opened from the outside. Probably how the attacker got in. Figure he hid in the back of the car and waited until the girl got off shift," Brass answered, swallowing some of the cream filled donut.

"The prelim on the tox report shows chloriform. Probably passed out immediately which is why no one heard a commotion. After she passed out in the drivers seat, he probably slid her into the back before climbing up front and driving away. Somewhere between there and the park, he raped her and killed her. Good news is she probably never woke up. TOD is estimated at 1 am, three hours after she left work."

"What about you?" Catherine asked, rubbing her eyes. She was frustrated. Between the case, the hours and her arguments with Lindsay being at an all time high, all she wanted was to curl up in bed, throw the covers over her head and not come out until Christmas.

"Got the tapes," Nick smirked.

"Parker said he'd never give them up," Brass said, popping another bite of donut into his mouth. "We put in for a warrant."

"Girl at the counter this morning is pretty pissed at the guy. He sounds like a real winner," Sara shrugged. "She gave them to us voluntarily."

"She knows she'll probably get fired for this, right?" Catherine asked.

"It's what she's counting on," Nick answered. "If she gets canned, she's going to collect unemployment insurance."

"Where's Warrick and Greg?" Sara asked.

"Here we are my darling," Greg winked. Sara smirked and rolled her eyes.

"We just finished the door to doors," Warrick chimed in, collapsing in the a chair.

"My tootsies hurt," Greg pouted as he fell onto the break room couch. The room laughed a little at Greg's choice of words. Apparently they hadn't all been heading back to the lab like Greg had said earlier. Grissom decided that he and Warrick would do door to door questioning immediately. No time to waste.

"Anything?" Grissom asked the two, peering over his glasses.

"Nothing even remotely close to anything usable," Warrick's eyes were downcast. "There was an older eighties model chevy pick up. Not a truck anyone recalled having seen before. Everyone who mentioned the truck mentioned about having new neighbors and assuming the vehicle belonged to them or a friend who was helping them move in, so they didn't think much of it. Most of the people on that street who'd seen the truck are young families and went to bed before midnight, and when they woke up this morning, the truck was gone. The park is only a couple of blocks to the east of that street though. So, he probably had a game plan."

"Maybe he was checking out the park earlier in the day, deciding where to drop the body," Grissom said. "We did find dirt in the victims car."

Sara's pager started to buzz so she pulled it off of her belt. She turned to Nick. "It's Archie."

The two made there way to the A/V lab quickly.

"Sorry, guys," the tech said quietly. "I've gone over all the time codes that overlap when Mary and Marilyn were working together that day, and I'm just not getting anything. I can see someone standing over here," he pointed to the screen where a torso was present near the window at the payphone, "but I can't see his face at any point."

"It might not be a total loss," Nick said, leaning in a little closer. "Is that a sunglasses stand?"

Archie nodded smiling, "reflection in the mirror. Sorry I didn't catch that earlier."

"It's OK, man," Nick clapped Archie's shoulder and then leaned back on his heels. His hand quickly found Sara's and gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze. She glanced at him quickly, in appreciation. She was nervous. What if it really is the same guy? What if, by some miracle, some little detail that she'd surpressed came back from her own attack and she could ID the guy? She was terrified at the idea of coming face to face with him, but excited that maybe she, and the other victims, would get their justice.

"Just enhance this," Archie mumbled trying to make the frame a little clearer. "Well, it's the best I can do," he informed them.

"It's the best lead we have so far," Sara smiled gratefully at him. She grabbed the print off from the laser printer next to the door. "We'd better go show the others."

"I'll get this picture out there," Brass informed the group. "At the moment, we can't exactly call him a suspect, so try not to get your hopes up, alright?"

The group of people nodded their heads in understanding. The best Brass could do was release the picture, which was still grainy, to the local TV stations and send the picture to the newspapers to get it printed for the next issue coming out in the morning. At best, all they could say is that they were looking for this man who may have information about am on going investigation. Those public pleas rarely did anything in their favor, but every now and again, someone who paid close enough attention to TV and newspapers was able to make a connection . . . but even those, most of them ended up being a mistaken case of identity.

"Well," Grissom said, standing up, "I think we should call it a day. If something comes up, Brass will call me, and I'll contact you all, but until then, go home and get some sleep." And with out anything further, he walked out of the room and closed the door to his office behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for the replies. I own nothing, dammit!

Mma63 -- A few things you mentioned in your reply I'd love to answer, but all will be revealed, I promise. Just hang on:) As far as Nick angst . . . there's a reason why the story is called "Sara's Secrets" ;) But believe me, there will be some Nick angst coming up!

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The picture that had been released did nothing but create false leads. Most of them were flat out hoaxes, while others were cases of mistaken identity.

It was nearly Thanksgiving now, and weeks had passed since the seventh and eighth victims were found. Number nine was either hidden well, or hadn't happened. Everyone was hoping that it hadn't happened, but were quite upset about the possibility that this serial killer had once again gone underground and wouldn't resurface for eight years.

The pattern had been broken though. The eighth victim had been drugged at a separate location, and the body relocated. And if number nine hadn't happened, then the timeline was broken. The question that was nagging on both Sara and Nick's minds, as well as the rest of the teams, was _why?_

With no new evidence, only new victims, the trail had once again grown cold and the CSIs were told by Ecklie to move on. The case, by law, couldn't be closed and labeled a cold case until at least six months had passed, but they were the number two lab in the country for a reason. It was time to move on. If a new lead presented itself, he assured them that they would be the team on the job, but until then, their hands were tied.

Nick and Sara had continued to pour over the case files in their spare time. She had insisted that he didn't need to involve himself in her drama because she even felt like it was pointless. Just a way to torture herself, she'd joked. But Nick refused to let her do it alone.

He'd promised her that if it was the last thing he did, he would make sure the person was brought to justice. As a result, they continued to spend their waking hours outside of the lab together. The only exception was that there were no more platonic sleep overs. Those had stopped immediately following Ecklie's decision to have the team move on. It wasn't something that either Nick or Sara had discussed, but it seemed appropriate to no longer spend the night at the others house. And it was far to uncomfortable of a conversation to have . . . And though neither would admit it to the other, or to their friends, they missed it. Waking up the others company, getting ready for work together, having to split their bathrooms, playfully fighting over the sink when they wanted to brush their teeth. They had even taken up cooking together while not at the lab. That was something that hadn't fallen through the cracks, though.

They still worked harmoniously together, side stepping the others movements in their modest kitchens, handing the other an ingredient they were sure to need before it was even asked for. And laundry . . . that was a task that Nick hated the most. Something about having to sort the clothes, then remove them from the washer and place them in the dryer . . . then to have to fold the damn things. Though it wasn't much, it was a task that he hated. A task that he felt went on forever. But with Sara there, carrying on a conversation with him, helping him with the laundry and even folding, it hadn't seemed so bad. Actually, he'd even pitched in with helping her with own laundry when he was at her home.

A number of times, they'd laughed over the fact that a few of their clothing items had ended up in the others washer and dryer. Having spent so much time together, a few of their personal belongings had made their way into the others home. And it always seemed to fit. It wasn't forced. It was natural.

Again, it was a slow night at the lab. The grave shift, plus Wendy, Archie and Hodges all took in the silent company of one another in the break room. The TV droned on in the background with some cheesy movie.

**Two Days Earlier**

_"I've always wanted to make pie," Sara admitted one night after she and Nick had put away the dinner dishes. She saw the look on his face. "I've made pie before. What I meant was, I've always wanted to make pie from scratch. You know, the pastry and all."_

_"Seriously? You've never made pastry?" He asked, cocking his head to the side as he wiped down the counter with a rag and some bleach water._

_"I've tried, but I always manage to screw it up pretty badly," she smirked. "I'm not a chef, but I can find my way around the kitchen easily. Pastry is just one of those things that alludes me though. I generally end up buying the premade pastry from the grocery store, but by the time I open up the box, the shell is split in half. Do you know how difficult it is to eat a pie with a cracked crust? You can't get a nice looking piece of the whole damn thing!"_

_He laughed. "Well, you're in luck," he reached up, pulling down a cook book from his cupboard. "My mom swears by this recipe." He scanned the index at the back then flipped to the appropriate page. "Ha! Here it is. Never Fail Pastry."_

_"Have you made it before?" she asked him, scanning over the ingredients. He handed her the book and their fingers touched, a shock going through both of them. He stood closely behind her, continuing to scan the ingredients himself._

_"I think I have all the ingredients," he said softly, his breath tickling her neck. "Ah," her question registered in his mind, "no, I haven't. I end up buying the premade stuff too. Not because I don't like home made stuff, but it's just me. It's not exactly fun going to so much work when I'm the only one enjoying it."_

_"Yeah, I know what you mean," she nodded. "That's why I have so many take out menus. What's the fun in cooking for one?"_

_"Yeah," he looked into her eyes as they both came to the realization that since the case had started, and they were spending all they're free time with one another, they'd been cooking. No take out had been ordered, no meals had been brought back. They'd even done the grocery shopping together. _

_Nick leaned in and glanced from her mouth to her eyes and back again, trying to gauge her reaction. He felt a knot in his stomach when he realised that she was leaning in as well, their lips just inches apart . . . and moving closer . . . _

_HONK a noise fom the street in font of Nick's home interrupted them. The sound of a loud muffler continued to rumble down the street. Obviously a neighbor had had company and they were bidding one another a final farewell for the evening._

_The two jumped apart, shocked at the sudden intrusion of noise. The moment was broken. _

_"So, ah," she fumbled with her words, looking helplessly at her hands. She was terrified that if she looked up, he'd see how flustered she was. And maybe, just maybe, that he hadn't wanted to kiss her at all. That it had all been in her imagination._

_"Do you want to, ah -" he fumbled with his words, not able to string a sentence together. He pointed at the book with one hand, while his other nervously scratched the back of his head. "You want to give that a shot? I think I have all the ingredients."_

_Sara glanced between the cookbook and Nick, then over to the stack of files with the case notes. "Yeah, sure. What kind of pie should we make?"_

_  
He shrugged. "Apple? Maybe Pumpkin? Something seasonal, I suppose," he smiled, relieved that she wasn't awkward about what had almost just happened. "We don't have to decide today. We can make the pastry and then let it sit over night. I think mom mentioned to let it sit in the fridge over night for the best results." He pulled out the ingredients as Sara pulled out the mixing bowls. "What kind of pie would you like to make?"_

_"I'm thinking Pumpkin," she smiled wide. "Its been a long time since I've had some. Fresh whipping cream to top it off."_

_  
"And a scoop of vanilla ice cream," he agreed. Of course, vanilla ice cream one the side of any pie would work._

_Sara unrolled the crease of the flour bag before opening the sack up. A poof of white air greeted her as she giggled. "Why the hell does that always happen to me?" she turned to Nick who slowly turned around to see what she was giggling about. He let out a laugh._

_"Attack of the flour," he smirked. He motioned to her cheek, "you've got some right . . ." he motioned to the side of her face, just under her eye. _

_  
"Did I get it?" she asked, using the back of her hand._

_"You've got some more, right here," he motioned again, but she missed. He shook his head and she tried again, waiting for an answer. "Here, let me," he took a step forward and tentatively reached out and brushed the small white particles away from her creamy skin. _

_"Is it gone?" she asked quietly, his body so close to hers. It was effecting her.. His hands were undoubtedly soft. She hadn't imagined any mans hands to be so delicate, but she assumed that it was just a part of Nick's gentle demeanor. Her tongue peaked out from between her lips, wetting them. She could only imagine that his hands could be rough at just the right times, too. The thought, along with Nick's thumbs running gentle circles on her skin was exciting her a little too much and she fought to stiffle a groan, only managing by biting her bottom lip between her teeth. She silently chastised herself, telling herself to keep her hormones in check._

_"Almost," he smiled, though he knew he was lying. The flour was all wiped away from her beautiful features, but he knew what Sara was feeling, as he was feeling it too. She was incredibly easy to read, and he just didn't want to stop touching her. It was innocent, but the idea of pulling away was just not appealing. How could he when he had the most incredible, beautiful woman standing in front of him, in his kitchen? He fought hard to stiffle his own groan when her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and again when she bit her bottom lip. Didn't she know that all that did was make him want to nip at her lip in a loving gesture?_

_Finally, she worked up the courage to look him in the eye. She could get lost in the pools of chocolate that reflected back at her. _

_His fingers stopped rubbing their soft, deliberate circles across her cheeks. They slid down to her shoulders, one hand snaking it's way to the back of her neck, playing at the soft silky strands of her hair, while the other traveled down her arm and settled at her hip._

_One of her own hands found his as it sat on her hip and she mirrored his movements by placing that hand on his hip. Slowly, her other other hand came to rest on top of his heart, feeling the steady, but fast, beat. _

_Neither knew who did what after that, but their lips met in a slow, soft kiss. Both were stunned as they pulled back a few moments later, slowly opening their eyes._

_  
"What took you so long?" Sara smirked as she brought her lips back to Nick's for a second kiss. It was still slow and soft, exploring the contours of each others mouths. But it was more passionate as they slowly opened their lips to the other, their tongues meeting for the first electrifying moment, dueling for control. _

_"I could ask you the same thing," Nick smirked as the need for air over whelmed them and they pulled apart, breathless._

_The pastry was forgotten about as the two made their way to the living room couch, wanting nothing more than to explore the others touch. Still tentative when they leaned in for a kiss, they remained slow and torturous at first, both wanting and needing to show the other how much they cared. By the end of the night, both were more confident that they were where they were meant to be and that the other had no doubts. Soon, they were claiming the others lips in fervent attempts to show just how much they'd wanted this. Just soaking in the feelings of overwhelming bliss. _

_  
Though nothing more than kissing had taken place, they'd reached a new point in their relationship. And neither could've been happier._

_  
End Flashback_

Nick was hurled back into reality by the sound of Sara's muffled cries of agony from her sleep. She's taken over the break room couch, stretching out. No one had said anything when she declined the offer of coffee, though everyone knew it was unlike her.

"Sara!" Greg called out, in an attempt to wake the brunette from where he sat.

"Shut up, man," Nick snapped as he removed himself from his chair and towards where Sara lay with an arm covering her eyes in an attempt to block out the lights of the room. He knew that she was still having difficulties sleeping. The bags under her eyes told him so, and she did nothing to try and hide her exhaustion when he was around. She knew that he'd see straight through her facade.

Catherine and Warrick watched in curiousity as Nick gently touched her arm, whispering something to her quietly. No one else was able to hear, but it was obvious that Sara hadn't woken up but was calming down from whatever was plaguing her.

Catherine saw Nick's eyes suddenly go wide and was immediately alarmed. "What's wrong, Nicky?"

"She's burning up," he answered, gently stroking the hair away from her forehead. It was matted in a thin layer of sweat.

Doc Robbins, who'd had a quiet night in the morgue had been sitting the corner quietly sipping his Tea when he heard Nick. He stood up and walked over to where Nick was standing and placed a hand on the CSIs forehead.

"You're right," he shook his head. "Definitely running a fever."

"Sara," he called out quietly, waking the beautiful woman from her trouble slumber. "Sweetie, wake up."

She grumbled something that he couldn't quite make out, but he knew that was just how she woke up. Slowly, her eyes opened and squinted as she tried to become accustomed to the bright lights. "Nick?" she asked, struggling to sit up, slightly embarassed that she'd fallen asleep. She shivered involuntarily.

Nick looked at Doc Robbins, concerned.

"Sara, you've got a fever," he informed her. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," she said, trying to regain her barings. Upon receiving doubtful looks from both Nick and Doc, as well as a few people at the table who were now curiously glancing in her direction, she sighed. "Fine, I have a headache, all right?"

"And?"

"And I'm a little achy, but it's nothing I can't handle, I swear," she said.

"It's a slow shift," Grissom said, looking up from his crossword. "I'm letting you go home, Sara. I don't want you to come back to work until you feel better."

"But-"

"You hardly get sick, so when do, I think it's cause for concern," Grissom put his pen down on the paper, then folded his arms over his chest, daring her to challenge him.

"Fine," she grumbled again.

"I think it's time you expand your vocabulary," Hodges smirked, but was ignored by most everyone in the room. Those who didn't ignore him gave him scornful looks.

"First thing in the morning," Doc Robbins said, "I want you to see a doctor. No exceptions. For tonight, just have some soup, drink some water, pop a tylenol and get plenty of rest."

She nodded her head and stood up, swaying slightly.

"I'm taking her home, Gris," Nick said, slipping an arm around her waist.

"Nick, I am -"

"Perfectly capable of driving yourself," he finished, rolling his eyes. "Uh huh. You just got a little dizzy. I'm sure the citizens of Las Vegas would agree with you."

She just sighed in resignation, realizing that she probably shouldn't be driving because she was a little dizzy, and definitely exhausted. And because she didn't have the energy to argue, which she knew wasn't like her.

"I'll be back soon," Nick said as he escorted her out of the room. "Thirty minutes, maybe 45."

Grissom nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Take you're time. Just keep your pager on."

"Will do, boss." And with that, he helped her to the locker room to grab her purse and jacket. Then, together, they made their way to Nick's Denali and toward Sara's home.

TBC . . .


	13. Chapter 13

Nick glanced over at the sleeping woman in the passenger side seat of his Denali. Placing the SUV in park and then turning the ignition off, he reached over and gently brushed a piece of hair out of her face and behind her ear. "God, you're so beautiful," he whispered, though he knew she hadn't heard him.

He got out of the Denali and walked to the passenger side, making sure that the copy of Sara's apartment key she'd given him was still firmly in his pocket. He pulled it out, and kept it in the palm of his hand. Satisfied, he slowly opened the passenger side door, careful not to jar her or make any unnecessary noises which might cause her to wake up. He opened the door fully and leaned over her, carefully removing the safety belt. He held the strap until it had fully wound back in its plastic casing. Then, he placed an arm under her legs and an arm around the back of her shoulders, easing her into his arms and out of the vehicle.

Once out of the vehicle, she nuzzled herself into his arms, her head lolling to the side, resting against his chest. "Mmm," she murmured, still sleeping.

He smiled slightly before using his leg to kick the door shut. He made sure that the keyless remote locked the Denali up.

"Mr. Stokes," Anita greeted him. She had lived next to Sara for almost the entire time since she'd moved to Vegas, but only a couple of months back, Sara had left her apartment for a slightly larger one on the main floor that had a view of the garden and pool.

"Hello, Ma'am," he nodded, his twang making her smile up at him with a large toothy grin.

"Poor dear looks exhausted," she commented.

"She is," he agreed. "Not feeling so good, either. Our boss sent her home early, and I drove her. She fell asleep and I just don't have the heart to wake her up."

"Let me get the front door," she said, walking back towards the entrance and keyed in the pass code for the residents. The building didn't have a doorman, but that didn't mean that just anyone could come and go as they pleased. There was a security system in place, and the building had always been safe because of it.

"Thank you," Nick smiled politely as the elderly woman held the door open and he gratefully stepped through the threshold. He turned around and cocked his head to the side. "It's Thursday night, aren't you late?" He winked.

The woman blushed and smiled just a little wider. It was always nice when a young person actually listened the mindless babble of an elderly citizen. "Yes, I'm meeting the ladies from my church at the Mandalay Bay tonight. We're going to play the penny slots and maybe take in a show or two," she giggled at the thought of watching young men prance around in next to no clothing. "I may be old, but I still have a pulse!" she smiled even wider.

"You have a wonderful evening," Nick smiled warmly, then added, "don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

She chuckled again and then declared, "I won't. And you take care of her. She's a precious girl, you know."

"That I do," his voice was decidedly soft. She smiled softly at him once more before offering a small wave and turning back towards the parking lot. He offered a small nod of his head since his hands were otherwise occupied.

Nick struggled with the key once he made his way to her apartment door.

"Nick?" Sara questioned groggily as she slowly opened her eyes, taking a moment to become accustomed to the bright hall lights.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you," he said softly. He felt her shifting in his arms and took that as his cue to set her on her feet.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you," she steadied herself by clasping her hands around Nick's arms.

"You OK?"

"Yeah," she nodded her head. Truth was, she wanted to soothe her achy muscles in a hot shower and then collapse on the bed and not wake up until whatever was making her feel gross was out of her system.

Now that his hands were free, he inserted the key and unlocked the door, pushing it open for Sara to enter.

"Thanks for bringing me home, Nicky," she yawned, removing the jacket she was wearing and hanging it up on the hook near the front door.

"Why don't you go change? I'm going to make you some soup," he stated.

"No, Nick, you have to get back to work," she told him. "Besides, I want to jump in the shower."

"Alright, then you jump in the shower, and when you're done, soup will be ready." He knew that she was going to protest, so he gently took her by her arm and lead her through the master bedroom and into the master bath. "Crawl into bed once your done and I'll bring your dinner to you." And with that, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and then left the bathroom, leaving no room for argument.

Ten minutes later, Sara slowly made her way out into the open living area.

"I thought I told you to go straight to bed? I distinctly remember saying that I'd bring your dinner to you," he admonished quietly, not even bothering to turn around.

"You did."

"Problems following directions, Sidle?" he teased. This time he turned around and saw what she was wearing. Nothing sexy about it, but it turned him on. Light blue cotton draw string track pants, and a white tank top. Her clean wet hair had been thrown up in a messy knot at the top of her head.

"Yeah, that must be it," she smirked back at him. The smirk dropped from her face and she started to cough. "Damn," she muttered after her short, but sudden, bout ended.

"Sore throat?"

"A little," she nodded. "It just started. I think I'm going to grab some cough drops."

"Uh uh uh," he shook his head no and pointed back towards the bedroom door. "You get into bed."

"Nick, I just want -"

"I've already got them," he picked up the cough drops from the tray table that was resting on the counter, proving that he'd anticipated the need for the candies. "And, I found your tylenol," he held up the bottle. "The soup is almost ready. I'll be in in a minute, so you go get comfortable."

A warm feeling took over her as she watched Nick work in her kitchen, wanting nothing more to take care of her. Although she was capable of taking care of herself, it meant the world to her that Nick wanted to do it.

Sighing in mock annoyance, she turned on her heels and headed back into the bedroom, preparing for Nick to serve her.

"I don't think I can eat anymore," she pouted, dropping the spoon back into the bowl.

Nick sighed, but understood. Sara had been saying as much for the last five minutes and all but had to spoon feed her to keep her eating. She'd at least eaten half the bowl, and a few of the dry crackers that he'd put on the tray.

She leaned back against the pillows and felt her eyelids growing heavier. "Not that I haven't appreciated this, Nick, but,"

"I know," he smiled at her lightly. "You want me to go back to work."

She nodded slightly, her eyelids drooping. "Besides, I'm going to pass out in a minute or two, so what kind of company would I be?"

"The best," he smiled at her, standing up from his perch on the side of the mattress. He leaned over and removed the tray from her lap and placed it on the bedside table. He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head as she snuggled down into the sheets and comforter.

"Sorry, you're still running a fever," he pointed out as he removed the comforter from over top of her body. He gently squished it down at the foot her bed, but straightened out the sheet set so that she was covered in a thin layer.

"As soon as I hear that front door close," she yawned, her eyes closing, "I'm . . . pulling . . . it . . . back . . . over . . . me," she spoke quietly.

"Yeah, uh huh," he smirked. He waited for a response, but when he didn't get one, he realized that she had just drifted off. "Dreams of Gold," he whisperd once again leaning down and kissing her, only this time, it was the tip of her nose. He stood up straight and made sure to leave the bottled water and cough drops beside her bed on her nightside table. He double checked the trash can beside her bed, making sure it was empty - just in case she woke up sick and couldn't make it to the bathroom.

He tugged on the string of the lamp, letting darkness consume the room. He wandered out, skillfully avoiding the furniture, knowing where it was placed in the room, and barely aided by the dim light that filtered in from the kitchen.

He paused briefly to scratch the black and white cat that Sara had adopted behind it's ears. It purred softly and rolled over for a tummy rub and Nick obliged for a quick moment before focusing again on the task at hand.

He made a quick check over the apartment, making sure the stove was off, and kettle was unplugged. Windows were securely locked, as was the patio door. Finally, he made his way back to the front door, opening it slowly, making a mental note that the next time he came over, to bring some oil to quiet the squeaking noise it made when opened or closed. Turning off the lights, the apartment bathed in darkness, he let himself into the hallway of the building, securely locking the door behind him.

An hour later, at nearly 10pm, a figure crept through the apartment, making almost no noise. He headed straight for the bedroom, cloth soaked in cloriform. Standing over Sara's sleeping form, he swiftly pressed the cloth against her mouth. Her eyes shot open at the sudden force on her face, but the cloriform had done it's job -- she passed out like a rag doll.

It had happened to fast that she didn't have the chance to fight or scream.

He pulled the slim digital camera out of his jacket pocket and snapped a few photos, smirking. No one would ever catch him. Not ever.

He picked up her limp body and craddled her in his arms much the same that Nick had done, but not nearly as gently or as lovingly. He stepped through the dark apartment. He grabbed the jacket she'd hung up near the front door only hours before, then dropped a small object on the kitchen counter before stepping out through the patio door and into the night . . . .


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks so much for the reviews:)

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"Oh, My, God!" Greg groaned dramatically in boredom. "Worst shift _ever_!"

"I'd say would-be victims would disagree with you," Doc Robbins said flipping through a National Geographic magazine that had been left in the breakroom. It was six years old or so, but he couldn't really tell . . . the print had faded and he wasn't entirely sure . . .

"They are blissfully unaware," Grissom sipped his coffee, filling out yet another crossword. Probably his eighth or ninth of the evening.

"Cable TV sucks!" Bobby Dawson yawned, tossing the remote onto the break room table.

Grissom had been the commander of the lab during the evenings and most of the staff had gone home. Fortunately he was unable to play favorites. For a night like this, Ecklie had put a system in place. One team of CSIs on shift that night had to stay within the lab until calls came in, while the other teams were able to go home and get some much needed rest. So long as they knew not to go partying because they were on call and could get a phone call at any moment. Unfortunately for the Number One grave shift team, they were stuck inside, just itching for an assignment.

"BULL SHIT!" Wendy shouted, drawing attention to her and Hodges who were sitting in the corner playing a game that she'd learned of when she first saw her favorite movie _How To Loose A Guy In Ten Days_. "Sorry," she giggled. She turned her attention back to Hodges and composed herself. "I said, bullshit."

He sneered at her and picked up the two cards on the top of the pile that he'd thrown down, turning them over and showing Wendy that he had, indeed, been bluffing.

"Pick up the whole pile, boy," she laughed triumphantly as David Hodges picked up three quarters of the deck of the cards and tried to hold them in one hand, put failing miserably.

"Seriously," he grumbled, "we need more than two people playing this game." He glanced around the room and saw that Warrick was flipping idly through an old car magazine. "What about you?" Warrick looked up, unsure if Hodges were addressing him or not.

"You interested in making time go by faster?" Wendy smiled.

"_Trying_ is more like it," Hodges rolled his eyes. But the idea of adding another person into the mix to allievate the amount of cards in his hands was appealing.

Warrick shrugged, tossing the magazine down and joining the two. "What about you Cat?"

She tossed the old Cosmo magazine down ontop of the InStyle she'd been reading next to Warrick's car magazine. "I guess it's a foursome."

Nick's Blackberry started to chirp, so he placed his mug on the break room table. Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was almost eleven thirty. His email icon flashed, but he didn't know the sender name. But the tag line grabbed his attention. _Dreams of Gold_. The words he'd whispered to Sara only hours before. His brow furrowed in confusion. He knew Sara's email address, so it couldn't have been from her . . .

"Is it work related?" Greg asked, jumping at the sound of the blackberry. Maybe they'd get a case tonight after all. Or a lead on a cold case.

Nick shrugged his shoulders before using the little plastic pointer on the screen to open the email.

"OH, FUCK!" Nick yelled, his entire face turning red in an instant.

Everyone started asking what was up, but he couldn't answer them. All he could do was reach for the phone on his belt and dial Sara's cell phone. He didn't get an answer, so he hung up and motioned for Grissom to pick up the Blackberry when he dialed her home number. Nothing.

"What's going on?" Catherine asked, dropping the cards from her hand of Bull Shit face up on the table, ignoring the fact that she'd just 'spoiled' the game.

"It says, '_I'm going to finish what I started so long ago_,'" Grissom answered. He felt his throat go dry as he starred at the attachment that had been sent as well. "There's a photo of Sara. She's passed out. The time stamp says it was taken an hour ago."

"Shit," Warrick mumbled. Catherine was stunned into silence, and Greg went pale. Nick was so angry as he continued to dial numbers into his cell phone. He couldn't even get a hold of the building manager or the supervisor.

Nick stood up so quickly that the chair he was sitting on fell backwards behind him, hitting the floor with a clatter. He raced out of the room.

"I'm calling Brass," Bobby Dawson muttered, grabbing the phone on the wall. The rest of the people in the room were stunned into silence. _ How in the hell could this be happening again? First Nick was taken, and nearly killed, and now Sara?_

"We're heading out there now," Catherine had regained her composure -- well, at least some of it.

Warrick, Greg and Grissom all followed her through the door that Nick had just bolted through. By the time the three CSIs made there way to the parking lot, running at full speed, Nick's Denali was already out of the parking lot. The only thing visible of him was the tail lights of the SUV as it sped down the road, law enforcement lights flashing.

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Nick slammed on the breaks near the front doors of the apartment building, tires burning rubber as they left skid marks. Throwing the car in park, he leapt out the drivers side door, leaving the door wide open, and not giving a damn about the possible threat of theft. The CSI part of brain was working as he used the material at the waist of his shirt to press in the security code, gaining access to the building. Once the light flashed from red to green, signalling the door would be briefly unlocked, he again used the hem of his shirt, grabbing the handle and yanking the door open, hurling himself inside.

He raced down the carpeted hallway, yelling her name. A few of the occupants poked their heads into the hall, wondering what the commotion was. Some looked at him oddly, while others chastised him for making such noise at such a late hour.

His palm fisted the hard wood of her door as he pounded, furiously calling out to her. "Sara?! Baby, it's Nick! Open the door! God, open the door!" He was on the verge of tears, terrified.

Struggling, he finally managed to unlock the door for the second time that evening. Everything was in tact. The exception was that her coat was missing and the patio door was off it's track, leaning against the wall. The white billowy curtains that had hung on the inside were sucked outside of the room into the gentle breeze.

"Please, please," he muttered, stepping towards the door. He noticed that it was slightly ajar and he reached for his gun, preparing for a stand off with an intruder who sat at her bedside. Hoping that it would be over in a few short seconds and that he would be holding her close to him, whispering how it was over.

He hugged the wall of her walk-in closet, the wall of the master bathroom on the opposite side of him as he travelled down the small hallway within the master bedroom. He heard nothing. No rustling, no breathing. Nothing. Just utterly unbearable silence. Still, he gripped the gun tighter, and sprung away from the wall, cocking the gun towards the bed where they may have been.

No one was there.

In frustration, he kicked the wall, cursing himself for leaving. She was already sick and that had probably aided the kidnapper in his quest. Whatever it may be . . .

He glanced up as the rest of the team, followed closely by Brass and Sophia, who were entering the bedroom.

"She's gone," he whispered quietly.

"We're going to find her, Nick," Brass spoke softly, clasping a hand on the young CSIs shoulder. He could see how much pain Nick was in. He'd just lost someone that he completely loved. He'd loved his wife with the same devotion, but she hadn't returned it. It caused him to turn to the bottle . . .but Sara, well, he could see that Sara felt the same way about Nick. "We will. I promise." And he meant it, but he couldn't help but wonder if he were really trying to convince Nick, or himself. _Maybe both_, he thought sadly.

"Lets get to work," Catherine said, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves and flicking on the lights in the bedroom. "Greg and Warrick have the main living area."

"He came in through the patio door," Nick pointed out the obvious.

"We noticed that," Sophia tried to lighten the moment, but it was useless. Even though she and Sara had started out on not so friendly terms, they had come to a silent agreement to not let it effect their work. And slowly, they'd even become friends.

"I remember locking it before I left," Nick said, feeling his knees start to give way. Brass grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Don't blame yourself," Catherine said softly. "This is not your fault."

Nick nodded his head in acknowledgement of her statement, but he wasn't convinced.

"Did you kick in the toe jam?" Grissom asked him. It was the second locking mechanism on patio doors and without it, any intruder could simply lift the glass door out of its track and gain access to any residence.

He was silent for a moment, going over his earlier actions. "I don't remember," he admitted.

Grissom nodded his head. He forgot from time to time to lock his own with the second lock as well. "We'll dust for prints."

"Oh, God," Greg muttered before he lost his balance and fell backwards into the stove, he braced himself as best he could, but his heel made contact with the drawer beneath the oven, and the metal made a loud clinging noise.

"What's going on out here?" Grissom's lips pursed together. Now was not the time for games. Deep down, he knew that they knew that. Sara was their friend too.

"We have a suspect," Greg announced.

"What? Who?" Nick pushed his way through the people in the bedroom and walked into the living area. He saw Greg standing at the breakfast bar, holding a silver chain.

"Nine," he said, closing his eyes as the chain dangled from his finger tips, the flat circle dangling at the end, the number nine taunting him.

The small crowd of CSIs and law enforcement that had gathered in the apartment all went deathly silent. The only sound was of Sara's cat who meowed in discontentment. It sat down looking up at Nick expectantly. He bent over, on autopilot, prepared to pick up the cat, but it bolted away from him. He stood up and looked at the cat, who was making a quick exit through where the patio door had been. But it stopped and turned to look at Nick, crying once again.

"Dust for prints and collect everything," he instructed, inadvertantly taking the lead from their supervisor. He followed the cat through the door and into the apartment courtyard.

"You heard him," Grissom nodded, "get to work."

Brass and Sophia started conducting the door to door investigation as the others started their jobs. Catherine went into Sara's bedroom and found a shirt that she'd worn earlier in the day, at work, in the hamper. She picked it up in a gloved handed and bagged it. "I'm calling in the scent dogs," she stated.

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Nick quickly sprinted after the cat, following its every move. It ignored seemingly everything, intent on leading the CSI to something. It stopped suddenly, sitting down in a curb side parking stall on the streetm which was to the side of the buildings actual parking lot.

"Is this where he brought her, buddy?" he asked the cat, squatting down and examining the pavement.

Satisfied, the cat meowed once again, only this time, the pitch of its cry was normal. He rubbed his body against Nick's leg as if to say _yes_. The water run off slot was there and Nick noticed a piece of white cloth just a few inches down from the opening of the space. He reached his already gloved hand down and retrieved the item before it could fall away into oblivion, perhaps washing away all traces of whatever that might be on it. If it pertained to the case. Sighing, he stood up and looked around. The street was empty and all the lights in the surrounding apartment buildings were mostly off. But a slight red flickering caught his eye.

Nick pulled his phone out and quickly hit speed dial -- calling Warrick. He'd called him on his way back from Sara's to get coffee orders. He decided to make a pit stop at the Starbucks around the corner and decided that everyone back at the lab could use a jolt too. "I think I have something on the southwest corner of the lot."

In no time, Warrick and Brass had joined him. He handed the white cloth to Warrick. "Have this sent back to the lab to have it analyzed."

"What else have you got?" Brass asked.

"Lucky," he pointed to the cat that was now sitting on the sidewalk watching everything unfold with curiousity, as if he actually knew what was going on,  
"lead me here. I think this is where the getaway vehicle may have been."

"Because of a _cat_?" Warrick asked incrediously.

"I know it sounds insane," Nick said, "but I found the cloth _in that_ drain," he pointed to where the cloth had been. "And up there," he pointed to a window in a corner unit on the third floor, "is a flashing red light. Perhaps from a camcorder. If we're lucky, we might have a clear shot of the guys face, the vehicle he was driving, license plate number, or the direction he went in." He took in a shaky breath. "_Anything_."

"Good luck, man," Warrick held out his fist for Nick to bump like they always did.

"Thanks," he bumped fists. "Lets go, Jim."

Jim nodded his head. Together, they sprinted across the deserted residential street, gaining access to the secured building by a door that had been propped open. A resident had probably forgotten to close it after a quick smoke outside. Quickly, the two flew up two flights of stairs and knocked on the door of the corner apartment. "LVPD!"

"_What do you want_?" a woman in her thirties threw the door open, exasperated. "Do you have any idea of what time it is?"

"We saw a red light in your window," Nick started impatiently.

"Yeah, and?"

"We need it," Jim stated in a professional manner.

"Why would I help you? The only reason why I have the damn thing recording _every night_ is because some little vandals decide to either egg my windows, or throw stones through them. My insurance company has refused to pay up, and the managers of the building are accusing me of doing it. I need proof that it isn't me, and you guys wouldn't help me. So tell me, what's in for me if I give you the tape?"

"We're investigating an abduction from across the street. It happened a little while ago and we have reason to believe that your camera might have critical evidence on it for our investigation. Time is of the essense, Ma'am."

"Please," Nick was ready to drop to his knees and beg. "We don't have a warrant and it could take hours to get one. We believe the person who kidnapped Sara is the serial rapist and murderer."

The woman visibly started to shake. "My little sister was good friends with Vanessa White," she was shocked. She stepped into her living room, leaving the door open for Jim and Nick to step inside. She grabbed the camera, hands still shaking. "Here," she handed the camera to Nick, "take the whole thing, I don't want to ruin the tape."

"We'll get this back to you soon as possible," Jim said as he watched Nick bolt straight for the door and back down the stairs.

"This Sara person . . . the one who was taken, she's something special to that guy, huh?"

Jim just nodded his head slightly. "Yeah. To all of us. She's a CSI, just like Nick."

"He loves her," she stated. "Good luck."

"Thanks," he smiled. "To show you how much we appreciate this, I'm going to have some under covers placed outside for a few days. We'll see if we can nail those little punks for you."

"No rush," she shook her head. "Just find her and put that creep behind bars."

TBC . . . .


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks for the reviews:)

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"What've you go so far?" Catherine asked Archie.

The first order of business had been to obtain the security camera tapes from Sara's building. They had been easy to get since the Building Manager had come home to police all over the apartment complex. He demanded to know what was going on and then promptly started asking if he should lawyer up. Someone had been taken, most likely against their will, in his building. He didn't want any legal action taken against him. So, he'd readily handed over anything that could help find Sara. All the tapes from all the different cameras for the last two weeks) and the blue print of the apartment building and grounds.

"Warrick told me that Nick believes this guy took Sara from her apartment, and headed this way," he pointed to the blue print, dragging his finger along the paper, in the direction of where the cat had lead Nick. "Based on that, only two cameras would've caught anything. I've gone over them, and at first, they came up clean."

"At first?"

"Yeah," he nodded his head, quickly queing up one of the tapes. "If you look closely, when this tape begins, you can see the back end of Nick's Denali pulling away from the curb."

"Obvious from earlier tonight," she nodded her head.

"Yes. The way the camera is positioned, you can't see the front door, or the drivers side door. Not much has been going on around the building, so I wasn't really seeing anything at all . . . but then," he fast forwarded about fourty five minutes from the time that Nick had pulled away, "the feed loops back over and replays. Nick's Denali is back. And at this time," he motioned to the timestamp, "he was already back at the lab."

"So, who ever did this knew how to manipulate security camera feeds?"

Archie nodded. "It's not the easiest thing to do, but you don't have to be a genius to figure it out."

"What about the other tape? You said there were two?"

"Same thing, it loops back over. And given the fact that Nick left the building, the tape replays about fourty five minutes later, and the time stamp on the photo that was emailed to Nick of Sara was about fifteen minutes after that, it seems plausible that this guy knew what he was doing. Probably planning it for a while."

Catherine nodded her head sadly. "The picture was emailed to Nick about an hour after he took her. Probably waited just long enough to get a head start."

"Drop whatever you're doing," Nick said, racing into the lab. "I've got a tape! It could be," he panted, thrusting it into Archie's hands, "our best chance."

Quickly, he changed the tapes and fast forwarded the contents, looking for anything that could be to their advantage.

"Bingo," Archie said, his heart racing increasing slightly, a small smile tugging on his lips. The vehicle pulled up to the curb.

"Wasn't there a strange, late 80's Chevy truck a few blocks from the Mary Bishop crime scene?" Catherine asked, watching as the man, dressed in black, face pointed away from the camera, jumped out of the vehicle and headed across the lawn towards Sara's apartment.

"Yeah," Nick answered, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the back of Archie's chair. He stood a little straighter when a few minutes later, the man came out, craddling Sara's limp body in his arms. He flinched when he noticed how she was roughly thrown inside the cab. He could see Lucky, the cat, trying to attack the man's leg. When the man leant over to grab the cat, Lucky got a good swat in on his bare arm.

Catherine whipped out her cell phone. "The cat managed to scratch the perp. If we're lucky, he's still got some of the guys DNA." She nodded her head as Greg announced that he would try and extract the skin cells, both hoping like hell that the DNA hadn't rubbed off in the grass, or been licked away with the cats grooming skills. Even though they already had the serial rapist and murderers DNA, they needed to know if this was in fact the same person.

"Go back," Nick said. Archie qued the tape back up a bit . . . "Five seconds . . . slow it down . . . . There!" Archie quickly paused the tape, freezing on the mans face. "Print that off."

Archie did as he was told and then started on the next obvious lead. The license plate. He isolated the frames, making the plates enlarged. "Fake," he sighed upon seeing the tags. The serial number read 00000.

"Dammit!" Nick's fist hit the desk in frustration. He rubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to calm down.

"At least we have a picture of him and the vehicle," Catherine pointed out, grabbing the print out of the guys face and rushing out of the room. "We're gonna get him, Nick. We're gonna get Sara back."

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"Have you located him yet?" Nick nearly snapped into his cell phone.

"Nick, the APB has only been out for ten minutes," Sophia said, her nerves frayed. "We have to give it a little time."

He sighed, knowing that she was right. He bid her a hasty good bye before snapping his phone shut and walking into the breakroom.

"How do you think she's doing?" Greg asked Warrick quietly.

"C'mon, man, you know Sar," Warrick answered in the same hushed tone. "She's going to be fine."

Brass and Grissom exchanged looks knowing that when her back was against the wall, and she felt cornered, she fought. That wasn't always a bad thing, but in this case, it might mean the difference between life and death. Brass remembered when she had drawn her gun and gone into the apartment with him and other officers before the room had been cleared. And she found the guy trying to escape through the window. It had been right after the explosion and everyone knew that she needed to take some time off to clear her head, but she refused. Grissom couldn't help but remember the man at the Institution who locked them into the officer together and held the makeshift knife to her throat.

"I know this is going to sound stupid, Nick, but what's going on?" Catherine asked. They were once again at a stand still with nothing to track down. All they had was a face and a vehicle -- but where they were, no one knew. Nick looked over at Catherine and then glanced around at his team mates who were looking at him, waiting for him to respond. "There is something you're not telling us," she pressed. "I can see it in your eyes."

He sighed, knowing that whatever the out come, they would find out anyway.

"Sara wasn't completely honest with you guys," he hedged. "I don't mean that she lied, but she withheld some information in regards to the case -" he saw all the shocked expressions and raised his hands, palms towards them, in an effort to keep them quiet so he could finish. "It's nothing that would've told us who," he stopped for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, "_this_ is. But I whole heartedly supported her decision."

"What didn't she tell us?" Brass asked.

He remained quiet for a few moments trying to decide just how much he could tell them without breaking her trust. But he knew that he had to come clean and tell them everything. If when they got Sara back, and she was pissed at him, he could deal with that. It would make him more than happy for that. "She was the first victim."

Catherine let out a shaky breath. "That explains a lot."

"How does she know?"

"Everything fits," he shrugged. "In the time line -- she was the first, it happened in park, in Boston in '91 when she was at Harvard. He wore a ski mask too. She said she felt like the case was following her. But she couldn't offer any other information because she didn't see his face. She told me that she thought he was going to kill her. But two girls showed up in the park and so he bolted. Saved her life."

"Why didn't she report it?" Warrick asked, leaning back in his seat.

"She did, but the officer who took her statement apparently didn't create a case file, and pretended like he had no idea what she was talking about when she showed up at the Boston PD demanding answers."

"That's unacceptable!" Grissom shouted, startling the occupants of the room. The man rarely ever raised his voice or got angry. "Did she speak with the Police Chief?"

Nick nodded his head. "He accessed her file. Life history seems more accurate, really. It's a long story, but Sara had a rough past. I think we all figured that out for ourselves. She only recently confided in me about it," he took a shaky breath. "Anyway, after glancing at her file, Sara told me that he decided she was a screwed up kid looking for attention. The officer, Alexander Danes, had just been given a medal for bravery or something, so no one thought he was capable of doing something against policy. By the time she had gone to the PD demanding that someone update her about what was going on, it had been a few days and all the evidence would've been gone. There was nothing she could do. At best, it was his word against hers, and she didn't even know who _he_ was. The next night, the second rape and first murder happened. She is convinced that if those girls hadn't shown up in the park when they did, she'd have been dead."

"Why didn't she say anything?" Grissom's voice was decidedly soft now. "To us?"

"Because," he rubbed his eyes. "She needs to find this guy. To give her some peace. Give her justice. Give those other girls justice. She knew that if she told you about it, you would pull her off the case." He looked at Grissom. "And if you had, there is no doubt in my mind that she wouldn't have been able to handle it. She's lived with this for 16 years. I think she felt like if she was able to know that something she found helped put him away, it would really give her closure. And she wouldn't get that if she wasn't on the case."

"Do you think it's the same guy?" Brass asked.

"How could it not be?" His eyes filled with water. "The email said that he was going to finish what he started. If she was the first victim, and he had planned on killing her?" He swallowed against the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. "It started in Boston. Then the guy goes underground and shows up again in San Francisco, where she's working the case. And now, here . . . it's not a coincidence."

"But it goes against his pattern," Greg muttered.

"Fuck the pattern!" Nick said, sweeping his hand over the table top, newspapers and paper cups floating down to the ground.

Greg jumped at Nick's outburst though he knew that it wasn't aimed at him.

"He's deviating from what he knows," Warrick calmly spoke, telling the youngest CSI, and voicing what everyone else in the room knew, but needed to hear anyway. "He's going to slip up."

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Sara's eyes fluttered open, her head throbbing. The fast motion of a moving vehicle made her queasy.

"How nice of you to finally wake up," he taunted her.

Her eyes opened wide and she attempted to focus, but her vision was blurry. "Who are you?" she asked timidly, beginning to tug at the ropes that were around her wrists.

"_You know_," he sneered.

His face came into focus, but she didn't recognize him, though his eyes were framiliar. She just couldn't place them.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice becoming stronger. The CSI part of her brain was kicking into gear. She needed to get information, she needed to process what was going on and formulate a plan to get herself out. Or to get word to someone else who could help her . . .

Suddenly, he let go of the steering wheel with his right hand and grabbed a fist full of her hair, yanking her head towards him. She made him focus on his eyes. "January 13th, 1991. The bushes in the park. Ring any bells?"

"Oh!" she choked, her eyes watering.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he released his grip on her hair suddenly, pushing her head away from him with such force that she wasn't able to get her equilibrum balanced and she hit her head on the passenger side window. "Playing dumb never suits the smart girls. Of course, how smart can you be? You ignored me for months!" He shook his head furiously, glancing from the road, to her. "If you'd just paid attention, this never would've happened! I'd never have had to take from you what was mine, and I never would gotten a taste of what it was like. Exhilerating. Intoxicating. Freeing. Those girls never would've lost their lives. But they did . . . and I think maybe I should thank you for that. You know, because it gave me the knowledge that I'm smarter than those . . . those idiots who think that they can keep people safe. They couldn't keep me safe. They certainly couldn't keep you safe. They practically handed you to me on a silver platter."

"I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered before the soup that Nick had made her resurfaced, hitting the floor between them.

"UGH!" He fumed. "Look what you've done!" When she vomitted a second time, he lost his temper and hit her from across the seat.

When she recoiled back in her seat, trying to bring a hand up to the stinging flesh, he smiled proudly. He'd put her in her place, and the vision of her struggling against the restraints he'd tied to her made him feel oddly giddy.

"I'm sorry," she fought against throwing up again. "I'm not feeling too well. I think it's the flu."

"I don't care what it is," he laughed. "It helped me get you out of your place. I thought it would've been more difficult. But you made it especially easy. I thought I was going to have to kill your little boyfriend to get you outta there. But you sent him on his way. Probably saved his life," he sneered.

She closed her eyes, wishing that Nick would take her in his arms. She prayed that he would find her.

"I need some water, or something," she said.

"Oh no," he shook his head. "We have a long drive in front of us and we have no time for unplanned pit stops."

"Please," she begged. "If I have some water or something, it'll probably help settle my stomach."

He glanced over at her and realized that she was right. He didn't have his rag of chloriform anymore since he'd lost it somewhere along the way. "I could beat you into silence," he pondered outloud, seeing her flinch. He smirked. "But I want you to be conscious when I torture you. Then there is the main event. I've been waiting and planning for a long time," he said in a quiet whisper that made her shiver in terror. "It's perfect."

"You'll need to untie me," she held up her hands to show him the binding.

"I'm going in alone," he shook his head. "You're staying put."

"Please," she begged. "I need to go to the bathroom. My stomach really is unsettled, and I don't think either of us want anymore accidents. Not like that," she nodded her head at the vomit on the floor, "or any other kind of accident."

He visibly cringed and he started to think. "Fine," he conceded. He reached into his left pocket and grabbed a Swiss Army Knife. "I will let you out to go to the washroom, and get a drink, but I'll be with you the whole time. And if you try anything, and I mean, _anything at all_, I won't hesitate to kill the clerk," he nodded his head at the small gas station that seemed to be oddly out of place in the desert, looming just ahead of them. No buildings were around it, it just sat in solitary silence next to the two lane highway. "But don't worry, I still plan to have my fun with you, no matter what. And then," he smiled at her, flashing his dirty teeth, ". . . you die."

TBC . . . .


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks so much for the replies:)

I disclaim . . . .

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"Remember what I said," he sneered in her ear as they entered the gas station.

"I won't do anything stupid," she gasped with disgust when he moved the collar of her jacket and placed a wet kiss on her neck from behind.

"Just putting on a little show for the chick behind the counter," he responded. "Follow my lead."

She nodded her head slightly in agreement as he yanked open the heavy glass door.

"Hello darlin'," he faked a Texan accent like Nick's poorly.

The young girl smiled slightly in greeting. "Hello."

"Ah," he poked her in the side, startling her. It was his silent way of telling her to speak. She cleared her throat, trying to calm her nerves. "Where is the rest room?"

"We've only got the one," she nodded her head towards the back of the station. "It's in the corner."

"Thanks," he drawled again. "C'mon, Honey." He pushed Sara towards the back of the establishment.

"It'll look suspicious if you come in with me," she said.

"_What're you planning_?!" he spoke through gritted teeth, slowly continuing to push her down the aisle..

Sara realized that he was more than unstable. He was crazy. "Nothing," she stayed calm. "But it will look suspicious. I just want to keep the girl safe. We'll be outta here before you know it, OK?" She glanced up at the security camera, her eyes remaining fixed there as she continued to allow him to push her. "You can even check the room first before leaving me alone. You can check it after too, OK?"

He stopped dead, haulting her to a stop as well. He stepped beside her and turned her toward him, unsure of whether or not to trust her. He'd been watching her and was sure that if she wanted, she could fool him.

Sara took the opportunity to lean up and kiss him on the cheek, lingering for a moment longer than needed. She kept her lips close to his ear. Closing her eyes tight as if to transport her back to her bedroom where she could wake up from the horrible nightmare, she spoke "that's to make it look convincing OK? The girl will never suspect a thing."

He closed his eyes and made the decision. "_Fine_. But I'm checking the restroom before and after you go in."

She nodded her head in understanding, a tight smile pulling on her lips. "OK."

He grabbed her hand and made her follow him the rest of the way to the bathroom. She looked up at the monitor, praying that somehow, someway, someone would find her before it was too late.

"I'm waiting right here," he said after checking the washroom for any object that could aid her in getting away, or alerting someone that she had been taken against her will.

She nodded again. "I understand." She hated pacifying him. She stepped into the bathroom and immediately felt sick as she rushed towards the toilet, the heavy door closing and automatically locking behind her.

After heaving into the bowl, she stayed on her knees, trying to catch her breath and starting to regain her composure. A harsh knock on the door brought her back to reality.

She faked like she was throwing up again, making some gagging noises into the bowl, satisfied when it echoed around her in the small space.

The employee glanced towards him. "Is she OK? She sounds really sick."

He nodded his head, and turned back to the door, rolling his eyes. "Take your time, Sweetie," he called trying to sound loving. He looked back at the girl. "Morning Sickness. It's been a bitch. She's saying that who ever coined the term needs to be shot because it's all day, every day."

"Oh," she turned and walked away.

Sara continued to groan in the restroom like she were still throwing up as she glanced around looking for something. Anything. She felt her eyes watering. There was nothing that she could see. If there had been anything, he'd taken it. She dropped back down to her knees and proceeded to empty her stomach once again. This time, it was not the flu bug that made her sick -- it was the situation she was in.

She glanced down at her jacket and she prayed that she was right. She opened it up, revealing an inside pocket near the breast of the coat. She reached inside and was delighted to find her CSI business card, complete with her name and contact information as well as the labs information. In that moment, she saw the corner of the bathroom mirror was chipped.

"A little extra insurance," she whispered to herself as she placed the pad of her thumb on the edge of the shard. She flinched when she quickly moved her hand, dragging it across the jagged edge. She examined her finger and found that it was only a superficial cut, but it was enough to coat her other thumb in a thin layer of blood. She pressed the it against the CSI card, then proceeded to do the same on the back of the card. She placed the card back into the interior breast pocket of her jacket before flushing the toilet. She quickly washed her hands, wiped the blood away from the mirror, and then opened the door. He entered the small room and glanced around, satisfied that everything was in order and that she hadn't tried to leave a message for the next bathroom user to find.

They quickly grabbed a few bottles of water and a Ginger Ale to settle Sara's stomach.

"A little food for the road," he said, feeling his stomach grumble. Again, he dragged her with him to the junk food aisle which was in direct view of the register where the girl was now curiously watching the two. Something just didn't feel . . . _right_.

As he leaned over to grab a few bags of chips and other candies, she quickly, but subtly opened her jacket pulling out her bloodied business card. She brought her hand up to her lips and indicated for the girl to be quiet. She reached over to the other side of the aisle and carefully placed the card underneath a candy box, all the while keeping eye contact with the girl.

"Alright," he decided, standing up, "I think that's everything." He never released his grip on her as he quickly made his way to the check out, his arms loaded down with snacks. She unloaded the bottled beverages that lined her chest, pinned there by her arm, on the counter.

The girl proceeded to scan the items while making small chit chat. "So, where are you coming from?"

"The Little White Chapel," he smiled. "We just got hitched." He nudged Sara who was still looking pale. He cocked his head to the side, "baby still giving you grief?"

She nodded a slight nod. "Uh, yeah, I think so."

"I didn't think you two were married," the girl stated innocently. "I didn't see any rings on your fingers."

He looked like he was caught and Sara could feel him reaching for his knife. "Oh, no, we can't afford rings right now. We've had a bit of bad luck, and the casinos have our life savings. All we have now is our love, our baby," she placed a hand on her flat, toned abdomin, "and each other."

He looked over at her, shocked that she came up with that so fast. He chuckled nervously. "Yeah, all that and our beat up truck."

The girl glanced outside at the truck parked near the front door.

"Good trucks, those Chevy's," she said. "My brother drove one for ten years. Never checked or changed the oil, and it never gave him any problems. My boyfriend wants to buy one too."

"Well," he smirked, "Chevy's got my vote."

Sara just forced a smile and nodded her head.

The girl gave him the total, he paid, and she handed over the bag of goodies and bid them goodbye, all the while watching them leave. She noted when Sara glanced back at her and then threw a glance to the candy aisle.

The phone rang and she picked it up quickly. "Gas N' Go," she spoke. "Oh, hi mom . . . . .Yeah, it's pretty quiet tonight. But then again, when isn't it? . . . . Tina should be coming by to pick me up in about an hour . . . no, no, I have my key, so you don't have to leave the house unlocked . . . " she noted the truck pulling out and back onto the road. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Love you . . . Bye."

"_And that was Norah Jones with her hit from a few years ago 'Turn Me On'," the radio announcers voice filtered through the air. "Now, we have some breaking news straight from the LVPD," he rattled off. "There was an abduction just a few hours ago at an apartment complex in Sin City. The suspect is driving a late 80's model Chevy truck, blue-grey in color. He is approximately 6 foot 2 inches, with sandy blond hair," he continued._

The girl wandered down the candy aisle and looked around, trying to find whatever the woman had hidden.

_" . . . The woman he abducted has brown hair and brown eyes, stands approximately 5 foot 10 inches. Both are approximately 35 years of age. Police are unsure of the name of the man, but the womans name is -"_

"Sara Sidle?" the girl wondered aloud as she found the card and held it up in the light, tears springing to her eyes. Had the supposedly pregnant and newly married woman who'd just left been the kidnapping victim?

"Sara Sidle," the announcer confirmed. "She works with the LVPD, and the suspect is considered armed and dangerous. Utmost caution is very important, but if you see them, please contact LVPD immediately."

The young girl broke out into a sprint and grabbed the cordless phone, dialling 911. She raced to the doors of the Gas N' Go and locked up, incase the man decided to come back.

"_911, what's your emergency_?"

"My name is Carrie Marquez," she could hear her voice shaking. "Sara Sidle, the woman who was kidnapped a few hours ago, was just in my store. The kidnapper was here too. They just left."

After getting the appropriate details, the operator informed her that uniforms were on their way.

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"There was a sighting!" Brass yelled as he flipped his cell phone shut, racing to the break room. "A small town about an hour and a half from here. She's alive!"

All of a sudden, a flurry of activity started with in the lab walls as the CSIs all ran to their vehicles. They had been sitting in the break room, ready to run as soon as a call came in. The kits were already loaded into the backs of their Denali's, jackets on, car keys in pockets. There was no time to waste.

And with that, a convoy of police cars and CSI vehicles raced out of Las Vegas, and further into the desert, chasing what could very well be the only lead they'd ever get that could lead to a happy ending . . .

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"You're quick on your toes," he said, glancing over at Sara. She was confused. "When the girl said she didn't believe that we were married . . ."

Sara nodded her head in understanding. "No reason for anyone else to get dragged into this," she said quietly, looking down at her hands and feet which had remained unbound. Apparently, she was gaining his trust. "What's your name?" she asked in a whisper.

He glared over at her, pissed that she didn't know. "After everything we've been through together, and you have to ask me that?!"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, her head starting to throb with a dull ache. "I don't really remember much about . . ." she cleared her throat, trying to figure out the right words, "what happened. Back then."

"And why not?!" he sneered, suddenly his hand reached up and smacked her across her face.

Her hand immediately went to her cheek where his hand had just connected. She thought quickly, sputtering out, "when I moved back to San Francisco, after I finished at Harvard, I was involved in a pretty bad car accident. My car was totaled, but I walked away dazed and confused. I don't really remember much, but the doctors said it was a miracle that I survived. My only real injury was the fact that I hit my head, and ended up with a nasty concussion. I didn't remember a whole lot about my life before the accident. My memory is still pretty fuzzy. Some how I managed to remember everything academically. Doctors figured something traumatic must've happened in my past. My mother killed my father, so that's what they thought I was trying to block out . . ." She swallowed hard, hoping that he believed it. It was true that she had been in an accident that totaled her car, that she had walked away, and had ended up with a concussion, but she remembered everything vividly. Everything except how she was supposed to know him . . .

He softened a little. "Right, the pile up on the Interstate," he nodded his head. Sara closed her eyes, frightened and wondering just how long he'd been watching her . . . "I was in a car behind you. Managed to escape the crash. Man, that was a bad one . . . something like 13 dead?"

"Actually, 13 people died at the scene, but I think 5 more people died at the hospital," she answered. "Most of them were kids too. Going home from school on the bus . . ."

"I worked at the coffee kiosk," he finally answered. "You always bought a large drink of some kind, never sticking to just one thing. And a Sticky bun. You only like the centers."

"Best part," she said softly. He was quiet and she realized that he wasn't going to tell her anything else. At least she knew that he worked at a coffee kiosk . . . there were only two that she frequented at the University. The one near the library, and the one near her dorm room, which also happened to be the one near the Science buildings . . . "So, uh, how long did you work at the kiosk?"

"Started in August, and I left in January," he shrugged, his eyes never leaving the road. "I realized that if I kept working, you might recognize me."

"Why the other girls?" she was feeling a little braver now. He seemed to be responding without realizing it . . .

He shrugged. "They were there, and it just kinda happened. After the third girl, I realized that if I didn't stop, I'd be caught. Didn't want to spend my life in prison, so I backed off . . ." she waited for him to continue, not ready to press her luck. "But I had developed a taste for it." He stopped abruptly, realizing that he was telling her about this . . . "Ah, what the hell, I may as well tell you, right? Not like you're gonna be able to tell anyone after I'm done with you!"

She visibly flinched.

"I was watching you. At Harvard, before and after I attacked you. Didn't mean to let you get away, but it was out of my control. As much as I probably wouldn't have minded getting a piece of those little teeny boppers in the park, I realized that there were three of you and only one of me. Even with a knife, the odds weren't in my favor. Anyway, I kept close tabs on you. Heard you tell your friends you were moving back home once you graduated. So, I followed. I was getting an itch to get to you again, but then I realized that things needed to be perfect before that could happen, so those other three girls were sorta like practice."

Her blood ran cold.

"Like most 'serials' as you call them, I had a routine and found no reason to deviate from it. Saw you working the cases too. You reacted to them. Made my heart beat a little faster," he smirked.

"I couldn't remember what had happened to me because of my injury, but I felt like there was something framilar that I just couldn't put my finger on . . ."

"I followed you when you moved to Vegas. Saw you nursing a crush on your boss, Mr. Grissom. But I don't know . . . that seems to have fallen by the wayside, and you've been getting pretty cozy with that pretty boy Nick Stokes. You were devasted when he was kidnapped, huh?"

"We all were," she answered quietly.

"Then Vanessa White and Mary Bishop," he continued, recalling the most recent victims, "I don't know . . . I guess it was to watch you squirm. Having power is a turn on, you know," he said calmly. "And now," he sneered again, "here you are. With me."

She blinked back the tears. "After me, will this all be over? Or will other girls still get hurt?"

"I don't know, I haven't decided," he shrugged. "It's rather fun." He reached out to turn on the radio, wanting to end the questioning.

Sara sat in silence, processing everything she'd just heard . . . and why was that damned kiosk guys name not coming back to her? Granted, there were a few . . . but only one left her with a nagging feeling . . . _what was his name?_ she asked herself . . . .

"Kevin?" she tried timidly, hoping she got it right.

"I thought we were done talking," he said, rolling his eyes.

"How do you . . . I mean . . . did you . . . After the accident, I remembered a name, but could never figure out who it belonged too and why it seemed so important to me . . . . does the name Alexander Danes mean anything to you?"

He snorted. "My Step brother. Guys an ass. Always taking what's not his . . . " she surpressed the urge to snort at how ironic that sounded coming from a man who raped and murdered women for fun. "He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, so I did a lot of his school work for him. He had to keep a decent GPA to be able to stay on the High School football team. Really loved sports. So, I did his work for a favor to be named at a later date. Senior year of high school, a scout saw him play, checked out his GPA records, which thanks to me, were one of the highest in the school," he mentally patted himself on the back, "and managed to get a full ride at Notre Dame. Unfortunately, for him, anyway," he chuckled, "he broke his leg during practice. Had a surgery to correct it, but his ability to play went down the tubes. So, he became a cop. When I attacked you, and left you alive, I knew that you'd report me. Even though I told you not too, I knew you were a smart girl and you'd do it. So, I called him, told him not to ask any questions . . ."

"But cops are supposed to uphold the law."

"He was a dirty cop," he cocked an eyebrow at her as if she should've known that all along. "Cops don't make a lot, as I'm sure you're aware of, and he had a drug habit. Any time there was a drug bust going down, he was sure to get in on it. Had to skim a little off the top for himself. Any time they siezed a lot of cash, he took a brick of money. I knew all that, and he knew I could blow him out of the water. The week before _it_ happened . . . he was being praised for being a hero. Rescuing someone from a burning building or something, I don't know, I can't really remember . . . he was high when he did that. He had a big hero complex to begin with, always wanting or needing to prove something, but he was the biggest chicken shit there was. If it hadn't been for the drugs, those people would've burned to a crisp."

"So he took my clothes, and the sexual assault kit and destroyed them? Didn't bother to file the report?"

"Nope, didn't file a report, but he didn't destroy the evidence either. I've still got it. It's in my apartment back in Vegas. A little something to remember you by . . . a parting gift, I suppose."

The music faded out and a repeat of the APB played over the radio airwaves, describing him, his truck, and Sara. _"The last known sighting was at a Gas N' Go about an hour and a half North of Las Vegas city limits."_

"SON OF A BITCH!" Kevin yelled, his fist hitting the steering wheel. Sara heard a pin drop and noticed that the steering wheel was slightly loose. He turned to her, "This is all your damn fault!" he sneered once again, his fist making contact with her face.

"OUCH!" she screamed, feeling the throbbing getting worse. "Kevin, you're going to loose control of the-" he slapped her again, and she whimpered.

The truck started to swirve, and he fought to regain control of the vehicle. But it was of no use, the truck tipped over and rolled down the highway multiple times before coming to a stop on it's roof in the ditch . . .

Everything in Sara's world went black.

TBC . . .


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks for the replies.

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The girl from the Gas N' Go quickly unlocked the door as a stream of police cars, trucks and SUVs blazed into the parking lot, lights flashing.

She noticed a brown haired man jump out of the passenger side of one of the SUVs before it had even completely stopped. She opened the door to introduce herself, but the man was quick.

"Nick Stokes, CSI," he flashed his ID card. "What exactly happened?"

Quickly the rest of the team, along with Brass and Sophia, as well as a few other officers, piled into the Gas N' Go waiting to hear what had happened, first hand.

She picked up the CSI card with the bloodied print. "She left this. She made sure that I saw her when she put it under this box," she wandered down the candy aisle. "The guy she was with was preoccupied with finding some munchies."

"What did he say? Did she say anything?"

"I got the feeling that she couldn't. He wouldn't leave her alone. The only time that they were apart was when she was in the bathroom. I heard her throwing up and assumed that maybe she needed some help. He was standing right outside the bathroom door, like he was standing guard. Said it was morning sickness that lasted all day. She was pretty pale."

Sophia went to the rest stop bathroom and glanced inside looking for anything that Sara may have left behind, but came up empty.

Nick clenched his fists at the idea of him discussing Sara like she were pregnant -- with _his_ child. It was bad enough that he'd raped her once, but the idea that he could do it again . . . no words could describe how horrible the thought was. But at least rape was about violence. Expecting a child . . . to Nick, that signified intimacy. And love.

"She's sick, probably the flu," Catherine said to the girl, placing a hand on Nick's arm to calm him as best she could.

"Other than that, they said that they were a couple. Well, he said, anyway. Mentioned getting hitched in Vegas. They weren't wearing rings, and when I had mentioned it, he seemed to get really nervous and I thought he was going to explode. A little vein on the side of his neck started throbbing. She jumped in and said that they couldn't afford rings. All they had was each other. And their baby. She didn't really speak like she was happy, or mad, or anything. Just kind of like she was indifferent."

Warrick glanced at Grissom. "Probably threatening to hurt her. Or someone else."

"He seemed almost relieve that she'd jumped in," she shrugged her shoulders. "Anyway, then they left. Headed north."

"What were they driving?"

"An old Chevy. I don't know the year."

The sound of a large, detailed road map was heard as Greg unfolded the paper and spread it across the counter. "We're here," he pointed to the X he'd marked on the map while on the drive. If they headed North, there are no other roads for 80 miles."

"Have you seen any traffic headed south, back towards Vegas, since they left?"

"Only big rigs," she shook her head.

Ecklie stepped into the building. Even though he was the Supervisor of the department now, Sara was one of his employees. He needed to be there. If for no other reason than to say that the department did everything they could to save one of their own.

"Let's go," Nick said as he headed for the door.

"Nick, they've had a huge head start -"

"She's out there!" he shouted at the team. "She's out there, alone with a guy whose already hurt her once, and he'll do it again."

"We understand," Jim said, trying to stay calm. The professional part of him wanted to follow protocol. But the personal side of him wanted to damn it all to hell and go out there, guns blazing -- just to bring Sara back. "But he's had a massive head start, Nick. And it doesn't take long to drive 80 miles per hour when you're speeding. There are tons of access roads up North. They could've taken any of them. We could just end up getting farther away."

"Well, as it stands, they're getting farther away from us, and Sara is getting closer and closer to only God knows what this guy has planned for her!"

"Nick, I know that you and Sara are close, but -"

"_Close_?" his face contorted and his eye brows furrowed. He looked Grissom square in the eye. It was then that he realized he was letting his emotions get the best of him. He knew that if he had any chance at all of getting Sara back, unharmed, he had to think logically. As logically as his heart and brain would allow. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I'm going after her. If you feel that you have to stay here to get her back, you do that. But I'm going to follow my heart. And it's telling me that if I don't go after her now, she's never coming home."

Grissom nodded his head in understanding.

"Must I remind you that it is against department policy?" Ecklie said, stone faced. "If any one of you take this matter into your own hands, it'll go before the review board. And chances are, you'll loose your jobs."

"Sara's life is worth loosing my job for," Nick said as he walked briskly through the door towards the Denali.

"Mine too," Warrick responded, sprinting after Nick. He was in no condition to be driving.

Greg nodded his head curtly at Ecklie as he moved towards the door.

Ecklie looked at Gil and Catherine. "I sure hope the two of you know better. You've spent years getting to where you are now. Are you willing to risk loosing your jobs?"

Catherine nodded her head, as did Grissom. "If the review board wants to fire us all for insubordination, that's fine. But I highly doubt they'll take action when an entire team tries to rescue one of their own. Besides, there is a reason that the Las Vegas lab is number two in the country. And you're watching the team that gave the lab that status walk out of that door."

Grissom smirked. It was all he could do as the look of shock washed across the department managers features. He glanced at Catherine. "We're wasting time standing here."

She nodded her head and the two of them were off, jumping into the Denali that they'd driven up in.

"Can you believe that?" he asked stunned, turning to watch the Denali tail lights disappear as they sped down the paved road that the State called a Highway.

Sophia smirked at her one time supervisor. He may have hated Grissom, but he always shared one major thing in common with the man who loved bugs: His inability to see the human condition when it comes to those one cares about. Sara was one of them. She was a CSI, she was a person who upheld the law. She was a woman who'd forged friendships and created a family with her co-workers. Willing to live and die by the breath the other took.

Ecklie turned to her and Brass. "We at least the two of you have the God given sense to-"

"I think we have a lead to follow," Brass interrupted him.

"No time to waste," she agreed, quickly following Brass to the newly issued Dodge Charger.

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Nick sat in the passenger side of the Denali as Warrick sped north on the paved Highway. "Come on!" he urged under his breath. He knew that Warrick was pushing the Denali's limits and if they went any faster, they ran the risk of the motor blowing. And that was just a problem that could not happen.

"We're going to get there in time, man," Warrick encouraged him, though he knew his voice sounded more confident than he felt.

"Sara's strong," Greg continued. "She's going to fight with everything that she has. She's going to be fine."

"She has to be," Nick's voice wavered a little as a stray tear trailed down his cheek. "She just has to be."

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_40 miles up the road_

Sara was groggy when she heard sounds of shattering glass. She whimpered in pain, trying to move her arm, but it was really sore. The more she tried to move it, the worse it hurt. She tried to move her other hand up to her forehead where she felt some warm blood trickling, but she felt her body being yanked out of a small space . . . the shards of glass that she'd heard shattered piercing the thin cotton that covered her body making irregular scratches. Some of the glass embedding itself into her skin, drawing more blood.

She glanced up at Kevin, her mind barely registering what had happened. But she was able to figure out that the truck at rolled, finally stopping in the ditch on its roof. The sound of the glass breaking had been Kevin breaking the passenger side window in because the door was jammed. He'd yanked her out of the vehicle by her hair through the small, freshly broken window.

"GOD DAMMIT!" he cursed, yanking her to her feet.

Sara could smell the scent of gasoline and noticed a spark threatening to ignite a fire. "It's gonna blow," she whispered, taking a few steps away from the wreckage.

"Nah, uh," he spat angrily. "You aren't going anywhere." He roughly pulled against him, and then grabbed the knife that was still firmly embedded in his pocket.

"Wh . . . what are you dong?" she breathed, starting down at the blade, the moonlight catching the metal.

"What I've been waiting 16 years for," he grinned, his eyes once again dead.

Suddenly, Sara remembered back to the day that she'd had her meeting with the financial planner. The guy at the diner. The one who was creeping her out and telling her to sit on his lap since they'd get along so well . . . Nick had come up and saved her, inviting her to join him and his family . . . but the guy . . . it had been Kevin.

"You don't want to do this," she shook her head, cursing herself when a tear fell from her eye. Then another.

"Oh? And why not?"

"You said yourself that you don't want to spend the rest of your life in prison."

"Once I'm done with you, you won't be talking," he smiled even larger now.

"But you don't have any way of getting out of here. The truck is going to explode. You can do whatever you want to me, but you'll leave trace evidence everywhere when you try to get away. And they'll find it. I know they will. And that's assuming that no one comes along and see's you . . . and me. What would you do then?"

His lips formed a rigidly straight line as he contemplated what she was saying.

"I know that you carefully thought things through before," she said, "but if you do this here, now, without a plan, you'll mess up and they'll get you."

BOOM The truck exploded, and the force of gas igniting and the truck going up caused a back draft that threw Kevin and Sara to the ground.

"See, now you're totally stuck," Sara shook her head. She knew that if he wanted, he could rape and murder her right there in the ditch and then walk into the bushes and disappear, but she didn't have any other option.

"SHUT UP!" he commanded, quickly regaining control of the situation as he rolled on top of her, pawing at the tank top she was wearing, ripping one shoulder, exposing a portion of her sports bra. He was trying to make quick work of the draw string pants, but she fought back, kneeing him in the groin.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH!" he yelled, grabbing an ankle as she tried to crawl away from him, dragging him back under her. He started to pummel her when he saw the lights of a vehicle approaching. "FUCK!" he looked up to see a single Mazda 3 coming to a stop.

"OH MY GOD!" the girl shrieked. "Are you two OK?!" she jumped down into the ditch to try and help

"FINE!" He yelled, motioning for her to stay up there, but she didn't listen.

"Oh, Jesus!" the girl gasped.

Sara looked up into the framiliar eyes of Lindsay Willows. She blinked back the tears and managed to shake her head to Lindsay, silently hoping and praying that she wouldn't give away the fact that they knew each other.

Kevin yanked Sara to her feet once again. "Looks like I have two victims, now," he laughed. He held Sara against his chest, his arm around her throat as his other hand reached out to graze Lindsay's cheek with the blade of the knife. "Not really my taste, but what the hell? Maybe I've been missing something all these years . . . do blonds really have more fun?" he asked.

"Let her go," Sara weazed. "She's just a . . . kid."

"I think I may have found our getaway car," he sneered. Now his plan wasn't shot to hell after all. He managed to get them all out of the ditch and onto the road, he and Sara nearing the Mazda.

"Get in the car," he motioned for Lindsay to get in the back seat. But the girl stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

Suddenly, Sara found some strength and stomped on his foot, taking his gaze away from Lindsay.

"RUN!" she yelled to Lindsay. The girl had become like a little sister to Sara and she was willing to do whatever it took to get Lindsay out of harms way.

Without hesitation, the young girl took off for the brush, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Sara as she struggled with the strange man that held the knife.

Lindsay ran into the brush and crouched down to look back at what was going on when she was a safe distance away, sure that if she needed, she could run and keep a safe distance between her the dangerous man. She watched, flinching as he pummeled Sara's body time and again, slapping and punching, twisting her obviously sore arm, her heart breaking each time she heard Sara cry out in pain . . . Then he pushed her into the now open trunk of the car, slamming the lid behind her.

The man turned to look towards the brush and Lindsay dropped her head as far down as she could, so not to be seen.

"I'll worry about that little bitch later," he murmured, heading towards the drivers seat. "Dumb, too," he smirked, "doesn't she know that if she leave the keys in the ignition someone can drive away with her car?"

He quickly turned the car around so they would continue to head north, but purposefully steered the car roughly so that Sara's small body which was already wedged in the trunk tightly, would jar with the movements.

"Shit," she cried, in complete darkness, grabbing at wires in the trunk and furiously pulling at them. She knew that if anyone saw a car without break lights, it might raise some red flags. Once the wires were successfully yanked from their place, she started feeling around for anything to use to save herself with . . . .

"God, please let Lindsay be OK," she cried . . . .

TBC . . . .

A/N: _Suddenly, Sara remembered back to the day that she'd had her meeting with the financial planner. The guy at the diner. The one who was creeping her out and telling her to sit on his lap since they'd get along so well . . . Nick had come up and saved her, inviting her to join him and his family . . . but the guy . . . it had been Kevin. _This is happened in chapter 1.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks for the replies.

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"Oh, God," Greg gasped, eyes wide. "What is that?"

"It's a truck!" Nick felt his heart leap into his throat as he watched the blaze. The truck was fully engulfed, small explosions still continuing to rock the frame, causing bursts of heat.

Warrick grabbed his cell phone and called dispatch, requesting a fire truck be sent out to their location to battle a vehicle fire. He gave them the co-ordinates. He increased the excelleration of the SUV, driving dangerously fast. If there were any stray debris on the road, and they hit it, they could blow a tire and loose control of the vehicle.

After what seemed like hours, but was actually less than a minute, they came to a screeching hault at the inferno. Everyone, including Gil and Catherine, as well as Brass and Sophia, jumped out of their cars, racing towards the fire. More black and white units were hot on their tails.

"SARA?!" Nick called, getting dangerously close to the flames. The hair on his arms started to sear from the heat. "SARA?!"

Most of the people stood back, inspecting the the fire, trying to see through the flames. If there were any bodies, they weren't visible. There was no way someone could survive that.

"_MOM_!" Lindsay was running out of the brush as fast as she could, but the noise of the police sirens, and the sounds of the cackling inferno that had ripped through the truck proved to be too much. She'd been sobbing in dispair since the car had sped away. Not knowing what to do or where to go, she's remained in the bushes, staying hidden incase the crazy guy came back. "_MOM_!" she yelled again.

Catherine whipped around, and was shocked to see her daughter running towards them, covered in dirt from the brush.

"What? How? _Lindsay_?!"

"He's . . . got . . . her," she choked out . . . "in . . . the . . . trunk . . . of . . . my . . . car."

"She's alive?" Nick asked, whirling around to meet Catherine's distraught daughter.

"What happened, Lindsay?" Warrick questiong the girl, whose breathing was starting to return to normal.

"I was coming home from looking at colleges because I heard about Sara being taken," she looked at her mother who nodded her head, "and I saw this explosion. It came out of no where. It was just black and then everything was lit up. When I got closer, I saw a man and a woman in the ditch. I thought they were hurt, so I jumped out of my car to help them. Then I saw Sara. She was pretty banged up, and her clothes were ripped . . . . She was looking at me like I needed to stay quiet and not mention her name. Like she didn't want him to know that we knew each other. I think she was believed he was going to kill me. Then he pulled out a knife and started talking about how he had two of us . . . she kicked him or something and yelled at me to run, so I did. I went and hid in the bushes," she pointed to the brush that she'd just come out of, tugging on the dirty hem of her shirt. The tears started to fall again, "I watched him . . . "

"Watched him what, Linds?" Grissom asked gently, closing his eyes tightly, trying to rid himself of the images that threatened to take over.

"She couldn't even fight back," she said through her tears. "I think she hurt her arm, but besides that, he was hitting her so quickly, one after another . . . and then he pushed her in the trunk and closed it. He looked back where I had run off to, and then he got in the car and drove away." She pointed in the direction they had sped off in. "It all happened so fast."

"How long ago?" Nick asked quickly, looking in the direction she was pointing.

"Fifteen minutes, I think . . . "

Nick bolted back to the still running Denali, jumping in the front seat. Warrick took off behind him, jumping in the passenger side. He grabbed onto the handle of the door and held on for dear life as Nick immediately punched the pedal to the floor, tires smoking as they took off like a bullet from a gun.

"Go!" Catherine yelled at Grissom and Greg. Sophia and Brass had already taken off in the Charger.

"I want to go with," Lindsay said firmly. Catherine was about to protest, but Lindsay held up her hand. "I'm an adult, Mom. I have to see that she's OK. Please."

"_Fine_," she said, exasperated, knowing there was no time waste. "Jump in the back!" She jumped in behind Greg, while Lindsay jumped in behind Grissom.

The girl gasped, getting everyones attention. "MY CELL PHONE!" Her hands flew up to her mouth. "It's in my car. I dropped it under the drivers seat and couldn't get it out."

"The GPS," Catherine whispered, rolling her eyes, uncertain as to how she hadn't remembered before. 

"I'll call it in," Greg said, reaching for the radio to call dispatch for the information.

"Woah, wait," Catherine said . . . "Weren't you driving the Tangiers courtesy car?"

Lindsay nodded.

"Grissom, there's an anti theft mechanism in the motor."

"I didn't realize that Sam had equipt those cars."

"Not all of them," she shook her head, "but the point is, we can have them activate it and he won't have a getaway vehicle."

"But is that a good idea? Who knows how far they've gotten. If they have enough miles between us, he can get her out of the trunk and they can disappear into the night pretty quick . . . at least with the GPS, we can track them. What if we cut the engine and he car jacks someone who doesn't have that?"

Catherine ran a shaky hand through her hair . . . "What're the chances? No one is even out here!" she surveyed the desolate highway and the surrounding areas. The only people out there were looking for Sara . . . and it was dark as far as the eye could see.

"I guess we cut the engine, then," Grissom sighed, praying that that was the right decision.

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"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" Kevin screamed as the engine made a grinding noise and then stopped dead. He tried the hood release, but it seemed to be stuck. "GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!" he kicked the car violently. The frame shook and he heard whimpering coming from the trunk. It was a noise that only served to anger him further.

He walked to the back of the car, hearing some slight noises from inside, and popped the button to release the trunk. What he didn't expect was for the medal to recoil back as Sara jumped out at him, with a tire iron in her hand as she swung violently at him, ignoring the searing pain that shot through her arm any time she moved it.

The iron, which she'd found in the trunk of the car, pushed to the back of the trunk, struck his side and he immediately dropped the knife that was in his hand. It hit the pavement, clattering and echoing in the silence that surrounded them.

He groaned in pain, cursing he fell to the ground with a thump. His eyes went wide as he saw Sara struggling to get out of the trunk on her feet, iron still clutched tightly in her fists. Winded, he stood up, and took a few tentative steps towards her, wabbling slightly.

"You little bitch! You're going to pay!" he declared, lunging for her.

Sara screamed not only in terror, and pain, but surprise as well as she swung again, on instinct. "You think I'm going down without a fight?" When he didn't answer, she swung again, rage taking over her whole body. "You're a bastard!" She pulled back after the second swing, and took a step back from him. He wasn't worth murder. She looked down and saw the knife laying at her feet. Carefully, she bent over to pick it up. Once she had the small, sharp object in her grasp, she flung it as far away from them as she could, but the searing pain shot through her whole body and she cried out in agony.

"AHH!" he suddenly charged her and she landed on the pavement once again, him straddling her and fighting her for control of tire iron.

One of his hands left the tire iron and started to apply pressure to her injured arm, which caused her grip to faulter, giving him an edge, but she was quick. She ignore the pain, heat radiating up and down the length of it, and retained her grasp, not allowing him to have control.

"You'll never win," he said, his face turning red with anger and excertion.

She moved her leg from beneath him, ignoring her bodys screams to stop. Her knee, which was now free from under him, socked him in the side, causing him to faulter. Grabbing the iron with all her strength, she yanked it from his hands, and swinging as he fell to the pavement beside her, taking every opportunity that presented itself to incapacitate him.

She scrambled to her feet and stood over him, preparing to hit if he tried to stand up.

"YOU THINK YOU'RE SO BIG AND TOUGH?! HUH?!" She yelled. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" She kicked him. "Oh, so now that you don't have anything to threaten me with, and I have the power, you go quiet? Some big tough man you are!"

Kevin tried to sit up using both his hands as leverage, but Sara didn't want him moving, so she hit him with the iron on the shoulder. Immediately, one arm came up to grip the tender shoulder and he lost his balance, falling back down to the pavement with a grunt.

Sara could hear sirens wailing in the background, getting steadily closer.

"It's over," she said, finally allowing herself to feel relief. Relief that she had control of the situation. That he wouldn't make her a victim again. At least, not in the way that he'd wanted . . . she was not going to die. Not here. Not like this. Fatigue started to set in as she struggled to remain standing. The injuries that she'd sustained, coupled with being ill were just making her tired. A single tear slipped down her face.

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"Oh, Thank God!" Nick said, seeing Sara's form in the distance. He was still leading the way, most of the others behind him. Some of the uniforms had stayed at the Gas N' Go collecting evidence, while a few had stayed with the burning wreckage of the truck.

Brass, who was in the Charger trailing behind Nick's Denali, spoke into the speaker phone as the whir of the sirens cut through the silence of the night air. "LVPD! DO NOT MOVE!"

Once again, the Denali left tire marks as the SUV skid to a stop. Nick and Warrick both jumped out and went straight for Sara.

He reached out to gently touch her, so not to scare her. She turned slowly, grimacing at the pain still coursing through her body. Her eyes met his. And he finally got his first good look at her.

"Oh, God," Nick wanted to vomit. The bruises that lined Sara's face, the cuts on her skin and the way she held her arm tightly to her body told a silent story as to how she'd been brutilized. The clothes she wore left him wonder just how far he'd gotten in his quest to 'finish what he'd started.'

"Looky here," Kevin spat, glaring up at Nick, "you're Knight In Shining Armor is here."

"Shut up," Sara flinched, turning her gaze from Nick's warm brown eyes, to the dead orbs of the man on the ground. "You're a piece of dirt."

"Looks like you got in some nice shots," Warrick said, giving the man they all hated a once over. He gently took hold of a part of the bar that Sara still held in her hand, but she tightened her grip and tried to jerk it away from Warrick. "Hey, hey, it's OK," he said and she finally looked at him, recognizing that she didn't have to be concerned about why Warrick wanted the bar. Nick was there. He was there. They were all there. She was safe.

"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," Sophia started to read him his miranda rights as Brass yanked him up, off the ground, slapping the cuffs on him.

He focused on Sara, and the rest of his world disappeared. "You're never going to be rid of me. I'll be everywhere you are. Haunting you."

Nick stepped forward in a protective manner, but Sara's hand grabbed his arm, silently begging him to stop.

"Candy ass," he spat at Nick. "Do everything the little girlfriend tells you too?"

"A real man would never do anything to make a woman uncomfortable," he said, taking a step back, wanting to take Sara in his arms and take all the pain away.

"A real man would know when a woman is asking for the man to take charge, so that's what I did," he answered. "I took charge, and boy, that beauty . . . and that body . . . you'd think she'd do more than just lie there, and -" he stopped talking when a sharp jab to his nose sent his head flying back.

"If you ever say anything like that ever again, I will kill you," he hissed.

Kevin's eyes met Nick's, but he spoke with authority to Brass. "I want to press charges. Police brutality."

Brass glanced at Sophia, both obviously in silent agreement with the other. "I didn't see anything. As far as I'm concerned, you're injuries are because Sara had to protect herself."

Brass and Sophia nodded their heads sympathetically at Sara as they led Kevin to one of the waiting officers.

"How're you doing?" Warrick was the first to break the silence.

"Lindsay. Did you find her?" she asked. "We have to find Lindsay!" She was starting to get hysterical.

"I'm right here," Lindsay said as she, Catherine, Greg and Grissom approached them. No one really knew what to say. Each wanted to reach out and hold her, but given what had just happened, physical contact probably wasn't the best idea -- one, to preserve the evidence, and the second, even more so, it might be too much . . . if he'd raped her . . . a lot of victims just didn't want anyone touching them, even if they knew the other person wasn't posing a threat.

"Oh, Thank God," she saw the young woman who was becoming more and more like Catherine everyday. Her legs started to tremble as she had difficulty keeping herself standing.

Nick's arm instinctively went around her waist, preventing her from falling. "Sara . . . did he . . . did he . . ." he couldn't bring himself to say the word. He didn't want too, anyway, but the words just wouldn't form . . . "Did he hurt you?" he decided on. They had to know.

Sara looked up at Nick, fear in her eyes. There was the time between his grabbing her in the apartment, and her waking up in the truck that was a complete blank . . . and she didn't know how long she'd blacked out after the truck had flipped in the ditch . . . "I . . . I don't know," and with that, her body went limp, and Nick's strong arms kept her unconcious form from hitting the ground . . .

TBC . . .


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks for the reviews, everyone. One more chapter after this . . . As always, please read and review. I adore the feedback!

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It hadn't taken long for an Air Ambulance to arrive on the scene. Nick, who'd been craddling Sara's body protectively against him as they waited, carefully lifted her on the stretcher, laying her down against the white fabric of the sheets.

He had jumped in the helicopter behind the bed that Sara was laying on, and Sophia came in after him. It made sense that she would come: if Sara wanted or needed another female presense, she would've asked for either her or Catherine. And aside from that, if Sara were up to it, Sophia could take Sara's statement.

"Catherine?" Sophia yelled over the whir of the helicopter blades. "You coming?"

Catherine was torn. She wanted to join them, but Lindsay had just seen something that she never should've had too . . . could she leave her daughter?

"I'm fine, mom," Lindsay yelled to be heard, answering the unspoken question. "I think Sara will need you."

"You sure?" she yelled back, her hair whipping around in the wind the chopper blades were creating.

She nodded her head. "Go!"

And so, Catherine took off for the helicopter, jumped in, and slammed the door tightly behind her. Jim signaled that it was safe to lift off, the pilot began their quick flight to Desert Palm Hospital.

"You've turned into a beautiful young woman," Warrick smiled at Lindsay, shocked at how quickly she'd grown up. He had met Catherine shortly after Lindsay's second birthday and had almost become a surrogate father when Eddie appeared and then disappeared from her life. It seemed like just yesterday she was squealing in delight when he'd give her a piggy back ride, or ask her if she wanted to fly like a bird before he'd scoop her up, resting her flat on his out reached arms. "You're mother did a wonderful job."

"She had some help," she smirked at him. It was obvious, even to her, that he and her mother had a spark. She knew that they were both hesitant for a lot of reasons. The first was because of her. Now that she was older, she was able to recognize that her mother and Warrick had held off on a relationship because she was confused. Eddie was always coming and going, and she didn't seem to know which way was up or down . . . then he died . . . after that, it had taken a while for both her and her mother to come to terms with the fact that he was never coming back . . . and then the team had been split and Catherine became his boss . . . and then Nick had been buried alive and as a result, Warrick had married a woman that he'd dated for only a short while. The marriage had ended . . . and now, it finally seemed like time was on their side . . . she knew that Warrick was making her mother happy. And that made her happy. No matter what, they finally had their chance at love.

He smiled at her lovingly, affectionately musing her hair. He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him as they walked back towards the Denali that Nick had parked haphazardly across the two lane highway . . .

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It was an hour later when Warrick and Greg lead the charge as they, Grissom, Brass and Lindsay briskly entered the ER of Desert Plams hospital. They had broken more than a few laws as they sped towards Las Vegas and the hospital, but they hadn't cared. After all, why did they have guns, badges and police sirens if they couldn't use them when needed?

"How is she?" Grissom's voice was tired, and his shoulders slumped. Obviously, his emotions of the evening, which he'd been holding at bay, were starting to surface.

He shrugged his shoulders, gripping a paper cup that held brown sludge that the hospital vending machines passed off as coffee. "They haven't done at SART exam yet. They did some X-Rays and cat-scans first, checking for internal injuries." His strong voice waivered. "He really did a number on her. Between beating her and the accident," he closed his eyes, trying to not let the thought of the horrible night she'd have rule his emotions once again.

Catherine and Sophia had already kicked him out of her hospital room nearly the moment that they'd arrived. She had still been unconcious, but the doctors had assured him that it was a combination of the illness, the stress and even the slight concussion that she'd received, presumably, in the accident. He had been so scared all night and though he had barely contained it during their search for her, his emotions overwhelmed him when he realized that the immediate threat was over. Now all that needed to be done was figure out what had happened, and how to help her through the trauma. He had started to cry uncontrollably, Catherine had ordered him out of the room, stating that if Sara woke up and saw him in such a state, she could panick and think some horrible, ending up in shock . . . and when he'd assured her that he would pull it together, Sophia had agreed with Catherine, saying that he needed to leave the room and pull himself back together, just in case she woke up before he was able to calm himself down.

He'd sighed, knowing that they were right. He leaned over and placed a kiss on top of her head before walking out. He'd immediately gone to the chapel to say a prayer, first thanking God that she was alive. Then, he prayed, his words quiet. "_Please, God, I don't know how she'll be able to get through it again . . . if he raped her . . _." it was the first time he'd uttered the word rape since they found her. The thought had made him physically ill and he'd made a bee line for the washroom, emptying his stomach contents, which hadn't been much more than coffee, into the toilet bowl. And then, he'd wandered the halls trying to collect himself enough to rejoin Sara . . . that was when they'd walked in.

"Did you see his face?" Lindsay asked, breaking Nick out of his thoughts. "He may have hurt Sara, but she worked him over pretty good. Probably didn't know what hit him."

Nick smiled at the girl, the first real smile in what seemed like forever. "Yeah, you're right." He threw the paper cup, which he'd crushed in his his hands, into the trash, then pulled Lindsay against his chest. Just like Warrick was a surrogate father to her, he was a big brother. And Sara had become a big sister. Greg was the weird cousin and Grissom was the odd ball Uncle . . . they truly were a make-shift family. "How're you doin'?"

"I'm fine, Nick," she sighed, hugging him back tightly to reassure him. "I promise."

Sophia poked her head out the room. "Hey, guys," she smiled. "Nick, Sara's starting to wake up."

"Thanks," he smiled, releasing Lindsay from his grip. He took a deep breath as he neared the door, glancing back at the rest of the group as he walked in.

"Hey beautiful," he smiled through watery eyes.

"Hey you," she smiled weakly back at him. "How's your hand?"

He laughed lightly. Just like Sara. She'd been to hell and back in one night and here she was, laying in a hospital bed, banged up and possibly raped, yet she was asking how he was? "You're amazing," he whispered, pulling a stool up to the side of the bed. He took one of her hands in his, while his other hand stroked her chocolate brown hair.

They just got lost in one another eyes, no one saying a word. Catherine and Sophia both stood off to the side of the room, not prepared to leave unless Sara asked them too.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Like I've been hit by a truck," she smirked, squeezing his hand in hers. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, his hand slipping from her hair and grazing her cheek gently, careful of the cuts on her face. His thumb gently swept across her skin.

"For finding me. Saving me," a single tear slipped from her eye.

He shook his head no, "don't cry," he wiped away her tears, and sniffed back his own that were threatening to fall, but it was useless. "I didn't save you, Sara. You saved yourself."

"Nick, I-"

"Shhh," he placed a finger on her lip, stopping her from protesting. "I wasn't going to stop until you were here. With me. Where you belong," he smiled, wiping at his own tears in a futile attempt to not let her see him cry. "Besides, I was just returning the favor. You wouldn't give up on me when I was buried." His finger brushed against her lower lip. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she furrowed her brow. Maybe it was the morphine that they had her on, but she didn't think he had anything to be sorry for.

"For leaving you," he whispered. "I will always regret it. I knew that you were sick, and that you shouldn't have been alone, but I-"

This time, she stopped him, "I asked you to leave, Nick. And if you'd stayed, I don't think you'd be sitting here right now." She glanced down at her hand wrapped in his. "He was watching me, Nick. And he knew that you'd just left. He told me that he thought he was going to have to kill you. If he had . . . I never would've forgiven myself."

"Sara?" Sophia asked, "are you up for telling us what happened?"

"It's still kinda fuzzy, I only remember bits and pieces," she sighed. "I know that his name is Kevin, his last name is probably Danes. His step brother is Alexander Danes."

"The cop who botched your case in Boston?" Sophia asked.

Sara nodded her head, blinking back the tears. "Apparently he's dirty. Takes money and drugs that should be evidence. Anyway, Officer Danes owed Kevin a favor or two and he called it in, telling Alex to be the one to take my statement. He took my clothes from that day and gave them to Kevin. He said that he's kept them in his apartment all these years . . . should be able to pull some trave evidence off of them. If he was telling the truth."

"Anything else?"

"Uh, he pretty much told me that I'm the reason why all those other girls died," she could feel herself getting choked up.

"That's not true," Nick said honestly. "Guys like him . . . they would've kept doing it no matter what. You can't blame yourself."

"Nicky's right, Sara," Catherine said, taking a step forward and grabbing Sara's other hand.

She was silent for a few moments thinking. She looked up at Sophia, shaking her head. "Sorry. Everything else is sorta jumbled together after that."

"It's enough for now," Sophia smiled lightly. "This guy is going away for a long time. I promise you." She took a step forward and placed a hand on Sara's ankle, giving it a quick squeeze before excusing herself to brief Brass. The first thing they had to do was get into Kevin's apartment to find the clothes from Sara's attack all those years ago.

The three sat in silence for a few minutes before a nurse stepped into the room, holding what they all knew was the exam kit.

Sara's throat was suddenly dry and she cleared her throat nervously, playing with the thin hospital gown that she wore. When she woke up, she's already been changed, and Catherine had assured her that it had been her who removed her worn clothes and changed her. But Catherine was a woman. And so was the nurse . . . and Nick was . . . well, Nick was Nick. Great as he is, he was not a woman.

Nick sensed her hesitation and stood up, placing a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

"Thank you," she whispered, tears threatening to fall once again.

Catherine gripped her hand a little tighter.

"Ready, Sara?" the nurse asked. She knew Sara from the countless rape cases that she'd worked, collecting the kits and taking statements. It was such a shame that now Sara faced going through the same ordeal . . .

She mutely nodded her head, looking away from both her, and Catherine. She tightly closed her eyes, biting down on her lip and she felt the insertion of the metal instrument . . . .

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It was a few minutes later when the nurse emerged from the room, motioning to Nick that he could go in. He watched as she walked back to the nurses station, kit in her hands. He knew that someone else would have to process the case from there on out because they were too close to Sara . . .

Even though she'd nodded her approval for him to enter the room again, he knocked lightly, announcing his presense. He peered inside, and his heart broke. Sara was on the bed, Catherine holding her in her arms, rocking her back and forth. Both women were crying.

"Sara," his voice cracked, tears immediately springing to his eyes, "I . . . I don't know . . . . God, I'm so . . . " he was at a loss for words.

Sara broke away from Catherine's embrace and a smile broke out across her face. "No, Nick, he didn't . . . " she couldn't finish her statement as a new batch of tears pool from her eyes.

A smile broke across Nick's face and with a few giant steps, he was at her bedside, scooping her into his arms, laughing happily with her. Nothing was funny about the situation, but they were so over come with joy that there was really nothing else to do. They could keep crying, but enough tears had already been shed.

There was a soft knock on the door and Warrick poked his head inside. "Are you up for visitors?"

Sara nodded her head, still smiling. No words were needed for the others to know that Sara hadn't been sexually assaulted.

Only a few moments after everyone had filed into the room did a doctor appear in the door way, looking at his chart. When he glanced up, he smiled. "Well, aren't you a popular patient."

Sara smiled. "I'm incredibly lucky."

"That you are," he concurred. "No serious injuries. Nothing that a few pain pills won't take care of, and a couple of days of rest. I'm more than willing to release you immediately."

"Oh, thank God!" Sara said. "These white walls were already starting to drive me nuts."

Everyone laughed.

"I will have to see you again before I clear you for work," he continued, "but I don't foresee that as taking too long. A week or so should do it."

"Thank you, Doc," Nick said, reaching out and shaking the mans hand.

"You're more than welcome," he gripped Nick's firm hand with his own. He turned to Sara. "I'll go get the paperwork started for your release."

"You're apartment is a crime scene," Grissom stated, getting right to the point.

"You won't be able to get in there for a few days at least. I think Sophia mentioned going back to get a few essentials for you," Warrick said, trying not to roll his eyes at the fact that Grissom seemed incapable of showing Sara any kind of emotion.

"You can stay with me," Nick said quietly, wanting to make sure that Sara knew she had a place to stay . . . "My door is always open to you. Always."

"Thank you," she smiled. "I appreciate that."

The sun was just starting to stream through the hospital window and it was then that Catherine realized it had been a long, long night. "I think we're all gonna go. Let you get some rest until you are discharged."

"OK," she smiled sleepily. Catherine leaned in, hugging Sara tightly.

She whispered, "call if you need anything."

"I will, thanks," she smiled. She turned to Lindsay and reached out for Lindsay's hand, to which the young woman immediately complied. "I'm so glad that you're OK," Sara's voice wavered as Lindsay leaned down and hugged her tightly.

"I'm glad you're OK, too," she whispered back, a few tears of her own falling.

Greg and Warrick both stepped forward and gave her light hugs, careful of her injuries and not wanting to over step any boundaries that may have gone up with the reappearance of the man who attacked her all those years ago.

Grissom stood back, not really knowing what to do. He wasn't good with emotions. At all. The room stood in awkward silence, waiting for him to say something. He finally let out a little breath, smiling slightly. "We were really worried about you, Sara."

She smiled back at him. "Thanks, Gris."

Slowly, they all filed out of the room, waving good bye.

"So, beautiful," Nick smiled, turning his attention back to Sara. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm OK," she answered.

"Sara," he drawled, not believing her answer.

"Really, Nick," she said again. "I'm OK. It's going to take some time to put this all behind me, but I know I can. With your help."

He sighed, smiling. "I'll always be here for you, Honey."

She smiled at the pet name and couldn't help but draw him a little closer to her, pressing her lips softly against his.

"Thank you," she whispered, after releasing his lips.

Nick was stunned. He shouldn't have been, it wasn't like they hadn't kissed before . . . but he was shocked that she initiated something so quickly . . . but he wasn't protesting either. A grin over took his features as he eased her back down against the pillow.

"We've got all the time in the world, Sara," he said softly. "Just lay back and close your eyes, OK? I'm going to see what's the hold up with those papers."

"Hurry back," she sighed contendedly, closing her eyes as he neared the door.

"OK," he smiled. "And then we'll go home."

"That sounds good," she mumbled sleepily.

Nick smiled. He was taking her home. And hopefully that's where she'd want to stay.

TBC . . .


	20. Chapter 20

Thanks for the reviews. So, this is it. The last chapter. I hope all the readers, even those who did not review, enjoyed the fic. I immensely enjoyed writing it.

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Nick unlocked his apartment and guided Sara through the front door.

"You OK?" he asked noticing that she winced a little bit in pain.

"Yeah," she brought her hand up to her temple, rubbing softly as the pain settled. "It's just the sun . . . it's kinda bright."

"Sorry," he apologized, quickly leaving her side and stridding across the room, closing the windows shades.

"Don't be," she smiled walking towards the kitchen in the darkness.

Nick smiled at how well she knew her way around his home. Of course, she should . . . not only had she spent a lot of time there, she'd helped him look for apartments after the Nigel Crane fiasco. What they'd found was astounding. The Mandalay Bay had recently taken a few floors of the hotels room and turned them into luxury apartments and penthouses. Because it was a hotel and casino, there was security always present, as well as video servelliance. And it didn't hurt that he'd have access to the pools, gym and other ammenities that hotel guests had. The price on the spacious two bedrooms, two bath apartment, with an office, and view of the Strip and mountains, was unbeatable and Nick had jumped at the chance, then enlisted Sara's help with the finishing touches. Since they had found the apartment prior to it's completion, he was able to create the apartment of his dreams, with the right style kitchen, paint colors, floor, window trim -- everything. Of course, it had meant that he stayed at Sara's a few additional weeks while the finishing touches had been completed.

"You hungry?" he asked, flipping on a lamp that sat on a side table in the living room. The apartment was then bathed in a gentle glow.

"Not really," she said quietly. She had a jello cup at the hospital and the pain medication that had been prescribed left her with no appetite. "Just tired."

"I'll grab you something to wear," he smiled softly, disappearing down the hall and into his bedroom. He grabbed his University t-shirt and a pair of track pants then placed them on the counter in the master bathroom before pulling out a couple of towels from under the sink. He wandered back into the living area where he noticed that Sara had taken a seat. "The clothes are in the master bathroom along with some towels. I thought you might want to grab a shower."

"Thanks Nicky," she cuddled into him as he took a seat beside her. She smiled against his chest as she felt his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer to him, protectively.

He kissed the top of her head before leaning his cheek against her hair. "Anything for you."

She shuffled a little in her seat next to him before pulling herself up. "I won't be long."

"Take as much time as you need," he said quietly, knowing what it was like to feel dirty -- like whatever happened was going to seep into your skin and stay embedded there. "And I want you to sleep in my room, too."

She shook her head no. "Nick-"

"My bed is far more comfortable, Sara, and you need rest," he said, cutting her off. "I'll be in the guest room if you need anything, OK?"

Again, she shook her head no. A few tears pooled in her eyes and he immediately stood up and took a few strides toward her. "What's wrong?"

She sniffed, embarassed. Her emotions were all over the place and now, being with Nick, in his apartment, while he was being so caring -- it was too much.

"Sara, baby," he soothed, "you can tell me anything." He pulled her into his chest, once again placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

"I don't want to be alone," she whimpered, burrying herself into his chest and holding him tightly.

"You're not," he assured her. "I'm going to be in the other room, and -"

"Stay with me?" she asked suddenly, leaning back in his embrace to look him in the eye.

He looked at her, but said nothing as her words sunk in. "Sara . . . "

"Nick, will you hold me? While I sleep? I just . . . I need to feel safe. You make me feel safe," she admitted. She felt so vulnerable, but it was the truth. And if she could be open with anyone, it's was Nick.

He smiled, and nodded his head slightly. "Lets go."

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Nick lay under the covers, the bed beside him empty. It had been thirty minutes since Sara had disappeared into his bathroom and the water had been running for about as long . . . he knew that she was trying to get Kevin off of her. The bonus of living at a luxury hotel was the never ending supply of hot water from the buildings massive hot water heater. When he heard the water stop, he listened closely and could hear a few hiccups from behind the closed door. Two minutes later, Sara walked out wearing his clothes that made her small frame appear even smaller. He smiled a little at her, then patted the bed next to him when she seemed to hesitate.

She crawled onto the bed, the pillow top soft under neath her. It felt like she was on a cloud.

"Are you sure you want me to stay?" he asked quietly.

She nodded her head and although the room was dark, he could tell she had been crying. She tentatively placed her cheek on his chest, the back of her head craddled by the back of his arm. She sniffed lightly and felt Nick's arm tighten around her as he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"You're safe now," he whispered into her hair.

She sniffed again and moved to wipe the tears that were flowing down her cheeks, once again, like a river. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said assertively, but calmly. "Just let it out."

It was then that the sobs that she'd been holding back came out. Nick gently rocked Sara in his arms and soothed her as best he could until she finally succumbed to an exhausted, and much needed, sleep. He watched her for a while, gently stroking the hair that framed her face. "I promise," he whispered to her sleeping form, "I will never let anyone hurt you again." Finally, he allowed himself to close his tired eyes and drifted into a slumber, content to know that the woman he loved was in his arms.

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

Nick woke up hours later to find the bed empty. "Sara?" No answer. "Sweetie?" He knocked on the closed bathroom door, but she didn't answer. His heart stopped beating and then when it started again, it thumped wildly against his chest. Where had she gone?

He stepped out of his bedroom and noticed that fading sunlight was once again filtering into the apartment. Sara had opened the blinds and he could see her sitting out on the decent sized patio. He gently opened the door and stepped outside into the cool evening air.

"Now I know how you felt," he smiled slightly at her, grabbing her attention.

"Sorry," she smiled sheepishly at him, but it brightened considerably as he sat down on the padded bench that she had insisted would be perfect for his outdoor space. "Now I know how you felt, too. Well, sort of."

After he'd been buried, Sara had stayed with him a number of times just to make sure that he was comforted when he was upset. On occasion, she woke up and found that he wasn't anywhere inside the apartment and would immediately be terrified that something had happened and she hadn't realized it. But, all of those times, she always found him sitting on his deck, staring out at the Strip and the mountains.

"Really is calming, huh?" she asked rhetorically. The sun was just setting and the neon lights of the Strip were coming alive.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against him.

"All I could think about was you," she admitted softly. She tilted her head up to look at Nick. She couldn't resist reaching up to gently stroke his face with the back of her fingers when he looked down at her with those chocolate eyes that she could drown in. "Everything was happening so fast, but it all seemed to be in slow motion, you know?"

He nodded his head. He knew what if felt like to be powerless to stop what was happening - that it seemed to be happening at warp speed . . . but yet, so slow that it was painful . . . so slow, that while you were processing what was happening to you, you had seemingly all the time in the world to think about your life . . . the things you'd done wrong, or right . . . the things you'd do differently . . .

"I thought about when you were in that box," she looked down, not sure if he wanted to hear this, but knowing that she needed him to know, "we were all so scared. And I swore up and down that when we got to you, not if -- because there was no way we weren't going to get to you in time, I was going to be honest with you . . . but I wasn't." The tears fell down her face furiously.

He used the pads of his thumb to wipe the tears away, knowing what she was trying to say. "I promised myself the same thing, too," he said, his own eyes tearing up. "But I didn't keep my promise to be honest with you either. I don't think I was in the right place," he shook his head.

In a lot of ways -- he wasn't. He was so screwed up. He'd known for a long time that he had feelings for Sara, but he didn't really know how deep those feelings went . . . he knew he felt a deep rooted jealousy when she looked at Grissom in a certain way, or when she was dating Hank . . . but it was when he was in that box that he realized he loved her. But he was so certain that he was going to die -- so certain that he'd almost pulled the trigger. And as much as his heart ached to tell her the truth, he couldn't take the risk. The risk that she'd mirror his feelings because he was certain that he would screw it up. Or that perhaps, she'd tell him what he wanted to hear out of fear of pushing him over the edge . . . so he kept quiet and as he got back to normal, they'd fallen back into their easy routine of flirting . . . and it just became too big a risk yet again . . . their friendship meant the world to him and even though he felt he was strong enough to move past the incident, if he lost Sara because he was honest, he knew he couldn't take it . . .

"Nick, I have to tell you," she said quietly, her lip quivering, "no matter what happens, you have to know that my life has been so much better because of you. I don't know what I would've done if we'd lost you. And I wish I hadn't waited for something like this to happen to tell you how I really feel . . . I wish that I hadn't wasted so much time . . . " she sniffed and looked into his eyes, "but you have to know that I love you." She held her breath and she watched as Nick processed what she'd just said. And although he was silent, the wheels in his head apparently still processing her words, she felt like a big weight had been lifted. "I really love you."

"Oh, Sar," he finally managed to say, "I love you too."

"You do?" she asked quietly, though she had heard him perfectly fine. A giggle escaped her lips as his hand found it's way to the back of her neck, playing with the hair at the base of her head.

"I really do," he smiled, matching hers. "I love you, Sara."

He leaned down and gently pulled her head towards him, their lips meeting together in a sweet, tender kiss. They slowly, and without hesitation, moved their lips in unison. Nick's lips part slightly and his tongue gently touched at Sara's bottom lip, requesting entrance. She eagerly complied by parting her own lips and moving her tongue to meet his. When they first touched, she moaned softly as her body heated up from his touch.

She pulled herself from her position onto his lap, straddling him and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as she could. His arms instinctively went around her waist, pulling her close to him as well, and protected her from possibly loosing her balance and falling backwards.

Finally, the lack of oxygen was too much and they broke apart, gulping in the air.

"Wow," she smiled. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that."

Nick smiled. "Me either," he agreed. "Just as long as we never get tired of it, I won't mind."

"That's never going to happen, Cowboy," she smiled, leaning down and kissing him again.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips, continuing to kiss her.

"Love you too," she smiled.

Suddenly, the phone rang and they slowly broke apart groaning at the interruption.

"I suppose we have years to do that," Nick smiled, leaning his forehead against hers.

"The rest of our lives," she agreed.

They didn't speak another word as they listened to the answering machine pick up and Brass's voice broke the quiet in the apartment.

_"Hey guys, it's Jim. I hope you're doing OK. I thought I would call and tell you that Kevin Danes has been formally arrested and the judge will not grant bail."_ Nick squeezed Sara's hip in support. _"We, uh," he fumbled for the right words, "found your clothes from Boston, Sara. They are going to go a long way in putting this guy away. He copped to killing Vanessa White, too, so it's only a matter of time before he admits to the others. He's going away for a long, long time. I spoke to Sophia a little while ago and she said that your apartment should be released as a crime scene as early as tomorrow." _They could hear Brass clear his throat, and Sara smiled a little, tears forming in her eyes as she realized that Jim was trying not to cry. _"I'm so relieved that you're alright Sara. Next time I see you, be warned that I'm giving you the biggest hug of your life," he laughed a little as his voice wavered. "Take good care of her, Nicky." Click. _

"I plan on it," Nick smiled, answering Brass's demand as if he were with them. He placed a kiss on the tip of Sara's nose before pulling her into a tight embrace.

"So, tomorrow," Sara stated, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

"Hey," he said softly, making her look at him, "you don't have to do anything you don't want too, OK? You can stay here . . . wait, that came out wrong . . . I meant, you can _live_ here." He smiled at her and she smiled softly in return. "I don't want to pressure you or anything, but I know what it's like to have your home, somewhere that is supposed to be safe, turned into a crime scene. So, if you don't want to go back, I'll understand. We all will. And if you want to find a new place to live, that's fine too . . . but I love you, and I want you to know . . . my home is your home. I'll understand if you think it's too soon, but I can't imagine you not falling asleep in my arms, and --"

He was cut off when Sara's lips came crashing down on his.

A moment later, when they needed air again, he opened and closed his mouth like a fish before finding the right words, "not that I minded, but what was that for?"

"You were rambling," she smiled. "I love you, Nick. And you're right, I don't want to go back to my apartment . . ."

"So . . . .?" he asked her, his eyes shining with anticipation.

"I'd love to live here with you," she smiled at him.

"Yeah?" he asked, just to be sure . . . he was already so excited that he felt like jumping out of his skin.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I love you too much to waste another day apart from you."

He stood up with her in his arms before gently lowering her feet to the patio. "I love you too."

They both knew that some people might think it was too early in their relationship to make such a bold move as to live together, but they'd known each other for seven and a half years. They knew each other like they knew themselves. And they knew that they were in it for the long haul. There was no reason to wait.

Nick held Sara tightly against his chest as the now dark sky looked down upon them, two new lovers holding on for the ride of their lives, wondering what the future would bring them, but both knowing that it was as bright as the neon lights that shone back at them from The Strip.

**THE END.**


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